NaBloPoMo Day Twenty Five:
Deb at San Diego Momma is hosting PROMPTuesday #32: One Word.
Try to write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in.
Aim for 250 words or less.
Just look at the word. And write.
The first time that I held you in my arms I was amazed at my own feelings. I was in twenty-something love to the power of ten. You literally took my breath away, but I knew that even without a breath in my body I could fight to the death for you and win. I just knew that I could if it came down to it. And once it did. You were perfect in every way, that first day. You stayed that way too. You’ve always been a smart cookie, beautiful, good, and an artist. The thing that set you apart, high above, and sometimes made things feel so feely for you, is that you have the highest emotional intelligence of anyone I’ve ever met. Even as a little girl. Especially now. The wisdom, grace, and depth that are your heart and mind amaze me. It is my honor to be a part of your life. I am in forty-something love to the power of ten.
The first time that I held you in my arms I was certain that never before on Earth had such a beautiful baby been born, and I knew the world was a better place that day because of you. Your skin was milky soft, your fluff (not hair) was the color of morning sunshine, and your eyes were clear blue pools. You weren’t just the most beautiful baby on Earth either. You were smart and self-sufficient too. And through the years, whether you were dressed in oversize T-shirts, giant green-framed glasses, all black from head to toe, volleyball or basketball or track shorts, or a vintage Emma Domb prom dress, you have always been beautiful. You’ve grown up to travel the western world all by yourself, and now you make the world a better place because you teach special kids who will make the world better too because you help them. You make me better too, and you didn’t even need to try, but still you do.
The first time that I held you in my arms I felt like I was looking into a familiar face. We had known each other for a long time before. Every movement and feeling we gave to each other for nine months had been pondered, enjoyed, and memorized. I had imagined your face for many years. And although the first time ever I looked at you it was puffy with one eye swollen from a plugged tear duct, it was a beautiful surprise because I recognized you. And then I watched the rest of you unfold. You revealed your personality and power to me on that first day. From that plastic hospital bassinet, you lifted your head and looked around. I knew you were already soaking in information, figuring out the world around you. I wondered how I’d keep up with you. And my feet, my brain, and my heart have been in motion since the day you were born, trying to pace you. I’m blessed to be a travel companion on your journey.