(Thankin' Kindly the Mr. Watson for the pics of Bella and me. We're unleashing the natural photographer in him yet.)
It must be a mystery to her, as must many things in her tiny life be. It seems taught, but, other times soft and limp. Then, moving out of the stream, there is nothing at all. Her face glistens with pearl like drops, her lashes dark and wet and mouth half open, I see plain as day, she's mesmerized. Her hand outstretched upward, fingers slowly turning and intwining with watery threads. Deep blue eyes gaze quietly up at the spout and do not see the tears of her mama. Watching her, I'm thinking of how soon these precious few moments will be only a memory. In imagining her at 2 years old, or 10 or 16, I almost see her as a different person. Sure, I know I'll grow in love for her each day, as I have done, but a Mother's Love, I'm finding is as mysterious as it is beautiful; for as I'm reveling in the ways she's grown and developed, there is a certain grief in knowing that time slips away quickly and she will never be the same as she is today. Each day brings change, and while I'm curious as to what she will be, my heart clings to what she is now. There are so many beautiful moments of witnessing her experiencing the world around her. The golden warmth of sunshine, the shower, the ability to hold things, and now the way she's beginning to sit up a little on her own. I wonder how this much joy is possible? The truth is, there is room for elements of sadness in even the most beautiful and joyful times. That's not a bad thing, I don't think. For me, those two things - sweet and sad - seem to mark some of the most endearing and important marks of my life…graduation, Anne going to college (I cried lots), times around the table of the Grey Submarine, holding hands with all the family as we pray, then the eating, story telling and laughter…walking down the dirt path from the little white church as I hold onto the arm of daddy, who was saying with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks, "It's been one of my chiefest joys to have raised you and had you in our family, darlin…" Then, leaving his arm to take that of my soon to be husband, there, under the trees and bright sky that July day last year…and our baby. Meeting her, living life with her, and learning her. Learning that when grey haired ladies with canes and deep lines in their faces stop me in the store to gaze wistfully at her and tell me, "It is wonderful…wonderful…treasure this time," that they are missing their babies, and that their empty hearts and arms were as full at one time as mine are now.
She loves her daddy. Looooves him. She gets the giddiest grin when he comes around, and that lovey look in her eyes. It makes me giddy too.
I married the jackpot. Sorry, girls. I mean, He washes her diapers, rubs my feet
and brings me hot tea in bed.
Directly after this photo she was scooped up and smothered with kisses.
This girl is a Water Baby. All things water is her game. And showers konk her out.
Besides the fact of her sitting here in his lap, absorbed in his reading these adorable editions of the classics, (thanks to Jesse Latimer) my next favorite thing is her night cap.
Darling baby, all I can do is love you now as much as I know how.
Reckon I'm still finding out how much that is.