Time keeps marching forward whether I am ready or not.
Ready or not here comes February.
February will show the promise of spring, won't it?
Spring and Summer I am anxious to feel on my skin again.
Until then the days keep running together.
Sometimes I look at Lily and wonder if somewhere along the way she got mixed up with someone else's baby and somehow I just didn't notice. I wonder how she could have gotten so tall. Surely someone will be dropping off that wee toddler any day and say they're so sorry for the mix up.
But then I smell her hair. No one else in the world smells as familiar. I just find it all hard to believe.
Her adult front teeth are about to break through and her bangs are almost grown out. Her socks keep getting holes from growing feet. The jackets I thought would last the winter are looking quite short in the sleeves.
She says she wants to be a librarian. She wants to read books all day. How could she be anyone else's but mine?
Growing up and letting go and holding on tight for dear life. It feels like the listing of a boat, a constant push and pull, righting itself and always, always seeking balance.