Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Perfect, pink, pretty.
Imperfect, purple (her true favorite color), pouty.
This, my third child, my second girl, stunning and serious soul. She, the one who has most challenged me. Daily, her charm astounds me. Daily, she perplexes me.
To be a mother is to know this unconditional love, to love through imperfections, to see imperfections but still ravishing beauty.
This child was the one who had me at the keyboard, googling autism because she at first wouldn't smile, then wouldn't laugh. She was late to walk. She was not much for cuddling.
This is my child who scares me to death when she talks of Heaven because she can't wait until she 'gets' to go there. I tell her that this won't be for a very, very long time.
She is fearless in many ways too and at only four seems to have a faith I don't.
Submitting at Wonderland and with Imperfect Prose