You are living, breathing chocolate incarnate (the food of the gods and goddesses). I am so very much in love with you. In fact, I’m practically obsessed with you. Is it healthy? I think so.
I have not written you a monthly letter for over half a year. I suck.
However, what I don’t suck at is being so much more present with you than I likely ever was with Kaia. I mean, she got my undivided attention, which was an utter gift. But I feel I was probably too much of a “new mom” to be totally present; anxiously awaiting the next milestone, the next dirty diaper, the next new tooth.
Not with you. It’s easy peasy to wait for those things, lather in your goofy love, and not worry about “the next”. You ARE the next. My next belly-laugh, my next kiss, my next full body hug.
Little, you are very pure. Even your facial expressions are pure and completely readable. My instincts say you love because it feels innately good and right to love. You help with chores without ever being asked or taught. I admit, this is foreign to me (or, at least to your big sister).
If there is a God or Goddess, surely your laugh is the sound of their voice. It is a toothy, authentic giggle that transforms into a full on chortle.
Your songs waft of simple pleasures, breezy afternoons, and joy that tap dances on tables.
You speak like a robot at times, enunciating within the depths of your throat, your lips unmoving like a ventriloquist.
You are tiny and light weight, and thus remind me to cast off the burden I carry on my shoulders. Sometimes, I am successful and I float like a feather through life. Other times, the burden creeps back up my leg like a snake and wraps around my body and I have to say “No thank you, snake. Not today”, as I untangle his body from mine.
There is nothing contrived about you, my youngest girl. You are the water from which you sprang, quelling my inner thirst. It is pure pleasure to ride along your waves, coasting and feeling free.
And funny you are. So OMG funny. To this day, you are a spot-on mimicker. You can imitate the most random and contorted of expressions and vocalizations. With feeling, too! I’ll try jazz hands tonight…
Oh hey, also you are attached to your superfuzz (your blanket) and your binky, which you call “Nigh Night”. You hold the superfuzz to your face, your eyes peering out sleepily, and pick at the fuzz with your fingers.
Something I’ve enjoyed lately is witnessing you as a sister. You look up to Kaia, literally and metaphorically. You watch her every move. You actually play together now, which is heart-melting and hilarious. If often ends in some sort of quasi-violence, or you running away with a toy in your arms, being chased by a wailing Kaia.
You also throw a good tantrum and still love to sleep.
Honestly, I do not want to think about you turning two. As Tevye would say “Unheard of. Absurd!” I know it’s just a number and all but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that two years old is like a demon, hissing to me from a dark cave “Her babyness is waning. She’s grooooowing up. Not much longer now! <cackle cackle cackle>”
So, then I have to quickly scoop you up and smell your gnarly hair, and remind myself to be present with my Present.
I’ve thought alot about how much cosmic love you emanate. And I’ve almost felt guilty, wondering if perhaps you are responsible for melting some of the polar ice caps with it. Hmmmm.
You are my prana.
You are my glimmering moonlight.
You are the heat from my skin.
You are smoke that rises from incense; a prayer.
You are twinkling stars, winking at me from the blackness.
You are my sighs of love.
My words are offerings only. Because there really are no words for you, just deep inhalations of the very life-energy you share so openly. Thank you for allowing me – us – to partake.
On knees, with arms wide open and head thrown back in pure bliss….