{August 21st, 2011 at 11:51 am ~ eight years later - stuck on a Los Angeles freeway}
Eight years have passed and she is still changing my world. Sometimes I wonder which one of us has grown more. With all of the lessons taught, it is often I who needs the teaching, the reminding, the second chance.
It is when her birthday comes around that it becomes pristine clear, the turning of days that keeps me moving forward while desperately holding on. Holding on to another moment, perhaps, before it slips like sand through that hourglass of life.
How many more evenings do I get to braid bedtime hair and do finger walks upon her back? How many more days will allow for skipping songs chanted and rollerblades ridden. When I hold her hand, can we walk a little further? When we share stories under puppy dog blankets, can we sit side-by-side a little bit longer?
With one year's turning, comes another year's beginning, just like all of life's little transitions. A gift that keeps us moving forward so we don't mourn forever, or weep forever, or grieve the loss forever.
There is celebration.
And so we celebrate eight years for all the gifts that have been, and for all the lessons learned. For all the giggles laughed, and for all the challenges raised. We celebrate the moments treasured, and the moments that are to come, as this Precious One grows on and on.
