 |
Not A Baby Anymore The pink ribbonned, white laced, blue trimmed size two dress seemingly melted in the stream of tears. As I dusted it off and tenderly packed it away, I prayed it’s destination reached a needy Mother whose little girl would beam with beauty as you did when it adorned you. I fantasize, as I fold the gown, that it might possibly fit again. Perhaps, if you wear those pink bowed shiny leather shoes (the ones that seem to cramp your toes). How dare you expand three sizes seemingly overnight...I find myself grieving for your first birthday. I find it incredulous that your once tiny body now appears to fill the bed that once doubled as your diaper station. What a dilemma I face, as I celebrate another twenty-four hours in your presence, I can’t help but relive the moments when I celebrated your first step, your struggling to form a sentence...the first reciprocated hug, your softness. It is such a bittersweet moment for your Mother. And, although I DO live to indulge in your development, inevitable independence, eventual becoming of age,...the overall wonder of you, it hurts to let go-and at times I ache to cuddle my baby in the pink laced dress. As I wipe my last tear, I somehow force myself to release the past by closing the box-such a symbolic gesture. This privileged package now houses that special dress, but blessedly not the memories which now sustain me.
|
