dear mikki and katie…
when we moved in last winter Katie, you couldn’t even reach the mail box with your pinky finger on top of a pile of snow. the other day, as i raked the lawn, you reached up with your chubby little hand and said “mommy…i get the mail.” i didn’t look at first because i thought it was silly that you said it… you couldn’t even reach it. but then i heard the hollow bang of your fingertips on the empty box; it replaced the beat of my heart. you reached it, just like you can reach the top of the counter now…just like your sister gets her own milk and cereal in the morning…you guys are hitting all kinds of these mini milestones, and although i don’t celebrate them all as i should, the touching of the mailbox was somehow profound for me. you chuckled to yourself, as if you had planned this surprise growth spurt just for this reason. i shouldn’t have been so shocked…your 2t pants are now capris, but i had convinced myself, despite my years of laundry experience, that i must have shrunk them in the dryer. denial. i don’t want to miss a moment of both of growing up, but i don’t want to admit it that you are.
perhaps you could slow down a bit.
all my love darlings,
ps. “how does one become a butterfly?” she asked. “you must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.” {unknown}
by amanda.b.
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