She did it last year, too. I thought it was a once-in-a-childhood sort of thing, but my baby continues to surprise me. I'm not sure why.
We arrived home at 6pm when darkness was commencing its slow embrace on our neighborhood. Our snow-deprived city was hungry for the falling beauty with its potential to hide the awful, mid-winter dreariness. And it came. Finally.
Oh, to cover the winter of one's heart...
She refuses perfectionism -- doesn't even seem to notice it. Ignoring her mommy's idol from years gone by, my little girl drinks in life until she can't possibly hold anymore. It's all about living and not yearning for something better. How does she do it?
"The snowman kit? Really?! There's only an inch or two, Babe. It won't work."
But minutes later I'm beckoned outside only to find myself in her tutorship again. Nighttime had settled all around like a blanket not permitting escape.
"See, Mom. It's as if I've just tucked him into bed." The darkness was beautiful to her, not threatening. It was inspiration, not fear. It was warmth.
Yes, "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." And once again, I surrender. I give up my idea of future beauty and embrace what's right in front of me.
I almost missed it again.