I close the washing machine and turn, she meets me, arms outstretched. A smile as wide as her beautiful face.
I love you, Mama.
She squeezes tight.
I love you so much.
She's inches taller than me and I feel small compared to the event that has made her so happy. It is not a little girl thing but a happening that makes her feel like the woman she longs to be.
This affection is no surprise coming from my Bluebird of Happiness, but I'm still caught off guard.
It had been a good day already. Now it has become magic.
My list continues . . .
tired ears
him killing the bugs
willing helpers
dishwasher
his grin when he walks in with an armful of black-eyed-susans
homemade icecream
lunch with friends
blankets in the grass
scrambled eggs
old dishtowels
old movies
illusions and her face
hand-me-downs
news of new precious baby boy
breezes in the heat
My list, # 111-125.
