I am looking at her, taking her in, and I am absolutely blown away. My head spins thinking about the myriad of ways in which I am unworthy. But the road I traveled brought me to her. To her beautiful hair. To her addictive smell. To her mischievous smile. To her head on my chest. To her happy chirps. To her soulful eyes.
To me, she is perfection.
I think about how messy life can be, about how her future glimmers with possibility. She is the light of our lives and when dark has fallen, Donald and I whisper to one another about this. How did we get so lucky?, we wonder as we relate humorous stories to one another about the moments in the day that we shared with her. Amidst the many mistakes we’ve each made, how did we strike gold?
In the daylight, I watch her at play and I marvel at her. Once we lived without her, I know we did, but how? Once she was merely a dream too fragile to even speak of, I know she was, but when? Once I walked everywhere without her hand seeking mine, I know I did, but I can hardly imagine it now. I can hardly fathom a world without her.
When she giggles at me, exclaiming at how long her hair is growing, she is Charlotte. Charlotte, my star shine.
When she leans forward, rubbing her nose against my own, she is Evelyn. Evelyn, my wild bird.
When she rests her weight against me, pinching my arm until sleep claims her, she is Polliwog. Polliwog, my darling squish.
And the longer she is here, the better life is. To me, she is everything.