She Is Perfection


She is perfection. 

A real life sleeping beauty. From the curve of her mouth to the wisps of hair lying across her cheeks. Her smooth skin unblemished by the hardships of the world. 
Sometimes I try to view the world through her eyes. Remarkable and immense. There is so much she doesn’t know. And yet she astonishes me with her ability to grasp the nuances of human interaction. The way her voice can suddenly shift and take on the cadence of someone much older than her two years. Where did she learn that? Is she imitating me? Someone else? Or is this something she has come to all on her own and much too quickly. 

She is perfection. 

Her short hair in ponytails. Wearing two kinds of mismatched polka dots. I pretty, Mommy. Yes. Yes, you are sweetheart. You are the most beautiful girl. And I hope she always know that. But someday she won’t and she won’t believe me when I remind her. Never mind. I don’t want to think about that now. I just want to watch the way my girl dances whenever she hears music. Spinning in circles. Arms flailing. So pleased with herself because when she jumps, both feet come up off the ground. 

She is perfection. 

Toddling down the long hallway of a hotel, the pink tutu of her bathing suit swaying back and forth with her clumsy gait. She is running as fast as her small, chubby legs will carry her. She is trying to catch up with her older brother and even though that’s impossible. Even though she will never be as fast as him, she shrieks with delight. And I just want to freeze time. Freeze the moment so that I can always go back and visit this child of mine. This girl who is ready to take on the world. 

She is perfection. 

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