Smelling like sunshine, grassy dirt, and markers...

In the sunlight, her light brown hair turns to burnished gold. Hand over hand, she traverses the monkey bars, eager to meet my smiling face at the other end. Almost every day she writes me little love notes. All for me. Some scrawled across torn strips of paper, in her tiny hand. Her love is bountiful. She still looks for me, eagerly, when I pick her up from school. Big eyes wide, excited, ready to leave and share her day with me. Her stories require a comfortable seat and a patient ear. They are long. Very. Long. The details of each event, that I didn't see, accounted for and noted. She is quick to memorize, and often repeats back verbatim what I said...weeks ago. She is meticulous and precise with her lettering, a passion, not something I encouraged. It just happened, and she is happy about it. On Christmas Day she spent over 2 hours in one spot, working on her own fairy tale storybook. A present from Santa. She is messy. Oh, yes. So, so messy. The playroom, a tale of what she's done that day. A trail of cut out paper scraps, pens, crayons, scissors, and tape. With a few baby dolls, toy kitchen goods, and doll house furniture thrown in the ring of MESS. She loves to paint and her school clothes boast of it. She and I joke about being able to judge how great her day was by the amount of paint on her clothing. Mama, can you tell what kind of day I've had today?! She has a temper. Whoa! Frustration is something that covers her body in seconds. Rageful, and later...sobbing remorse. She is hard on herself. A perfectionist. Often, it is one way or the highway with her. She impulsively calls out to me from another room or the back seat of the car... Mommy? I....LOVE....YOU.... She adores her brother. He is the apple of her pie. She spends many a freewheeling hour playing with him. The big brother, 10 months older. Who also frustrates her like no one else. She worries about him. She is a rule follower. She finds comfort in having a plan. She likes preparation, not surprises.  She is thoughtful, very smart, and often pensive.  Sometimes...I wish...that I could hold her here, at 5 1/2 ... just now, the vision ever present. A little girl growing and stretching every day. Less round, more long of limb. Roses in her cheeks. And stars in her eyes. Smelling like sunshine, grassy dirt, and markers...



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Note: My heart goes out to the people of Haiti. And to all the moms who cannot wrap their arms around their beloved children tonight.

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