In Their Hearts, Always
Dahlia
I realized this while plannning for a family vacation this Summer. We'll need our passports and my baby girl's is about to expire. She's grown so.
Tall girl and even taller ideas. They hit the roof, feel for an exit and unfurl at the tips like foliage. Then tenderly find their way out, unfolding skyward and becoming something much more wonderful each day. Blossoming.
Her big, round brown eyes. I see them now dancing in muted sunlight, so round, boring into mine.
I sit like a mirror in front of her, almost identical: she, the better of me. Beautiful brown curly hair. The gleaned goodness of a wretchedness that has for years run full tilt toward happiness.
Tiny hands in mine.
I am happy. She is my happiness. They both are, both my daughter and son. And I am proud, so very proud of both of them. For their abilities, their accomplishments, their love of learning, their desire to try, and I beam that much more when others tell me the same: my children are so very smart and are "above average".
And they love me. That's the best, most incredible, most unbelievable part: it is unconditional. To this they say always and seal it with promises that strengthen me.
I'm greedy and selfish, wanting them to always be this way. I want to cap the roof and keep them in, keep them from growing, from straying too far from home. If I could, I just might.
But their love assures me and I've faith in this love I had never known until motherhood yet longed for my whole life.
I've faith that whever they go, there I will be. In their hearts, always.
