Little Pixie

I have put more effort into understanding her than the two others combined. She goes to preschool on August 24th. I don't know how to describe how that makes me feel other than explaining how I felt tonight shopping with Grace and Ruby at Target. They had acted like circus clowns in the dressing room, climbed on the display strollers, opened and closed musical hallmark cards, and grazed past hanging clothing so fast that shirts and sweaters toppled to the floor. It wasn't too bad, really.

But there was one moment. I had them all wound up and we were racing through the main aisle, panicked, because I had told them the store was closing soon and we would get locked in all night. I had my arms full of soap, baby powder and ice cream. Grace was four feet ahead of us running much faster. I looked over at Ruby next to me, breaking into a full run, eyes alive with anticipation. The light bounced around her face and the cheek just under her eyes jutted out into the air, pushed up, exaggerated by her buoyant smile. There was nothing else but the sound of her tiny shoes on the floor, her skinny little legs kissing the ground goodbye with every step.

I think she'll always run like this, with no fear. She'll move away from me this next year, toward something else. I hope it's toward something inside herself, a pool of maturity that deepens with time. I hope she will always come back around to her family, her mother, knowing her place here inside this family will never change and feeling more confident in her thin and freckly skin.

There's so much more.

But that's it for tonight.