She’s a talker… like her mama. She has a lot to say and from the moment she get’s up to the time she goes to bed… she chatters. She yells and laughs at strangers in the shops, greeting them with intense joy and curiousity. Sometimes she’s shy and hides behind my shirt, only one sparkling eye peeking out to catch a glimpse of whoever is waiting, watching, egging her on. Sometimes she even whispers in the most earnest of moments, as if she’s telling me the secrets of the world, her brow furrowed, her voice low and hoarse. These serious chats often end in a sloppy baby kiss and a high pitched shriek… as if to let me know that we can return to where we once had been… our serious moment for the day has passed.
There is something magical about her. About all babies. Something so pure… something that every day reminds us just how truly blessed we are to have been given such an incredible gift. A little person to care for. To guide. To love.
There is true unadulterated joy here. True love. Unconditional. Pure.
Amidst the exhaustion and adult angst. In the middle of the hurt and the unknown and the fear that I feel. There is her.
Bo, the bringer of magic.