When I was a girl, there was nothing I wanted more than to be a grown up; and now that I am a grown up, there is nothing more I want for my daughter than to stop time and keep her small and innocent and with me forever.
It is ironic that your child comes into this world, totally helpless and totally dependent on others for survival, and within a year they can walk on their own, eat on their own, and even start to make choices for themselves. Wasn't it just a year ago that my baby couldn't hold her head up on her own?
Now I lean in for a kiss and she pushes me away, or smacks my hand away from hers as I try to assist her. She resists my direction and my guidance, choosing to go her own way. She walks away from me time and time again, her face against the wind, the sun at her back, not a care in the world. My view more often these days than I'd prefer, is the back of her head, her tiny feet taking her away from me.
This is inevitable, this time of her figuring out the world, and finding her place in it.
But there are moments where she will look back for me, extend her arm, wait for my hand to find hers, or lean in for a kiss. There are moments in the quiet of the morning when she lays her head on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck and settles in. There are moments in the dark of twilight where she leans back into me, her head on my chest and lets me bury my nose in her hair and kiss her until I am fulfilled.
Those are the moments I cherish, remembering that she always needed me, even if just for a little while.
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