A picture of stillness, so rare in someone her age.
My girl, the one who twirls everywhere, never skips a beat when I ask her to grind to a halt.
She knows the quiet concentration required; statuesque she remains.
My internal dialogue is awash with frustrated tones, pursed lips, hints of anger, and an occasional word that I'd never speak out of my head crossing my brain....pure frustration for her that at seven she's prohibited from bounding around as I try to catch the back of her frock, a normal for most.
Our eyes lock in the mirror, and she smiles gently at me. She asks, "Would you like me to find something different this morning? I can always change this afternoon...." Her baby blues showing empathy as she holds my gaze.
"No, I'm almost there, only two left...", my words trailing off as I once again tackle the task at hand.
So she stands. Perfectly still. In silence.
Hearing me take a deep breath and exhale, she knows I'm done. Immediately she spins, the skirt lifting airily as she beams in my direction and says joyously, "YOU did it!"
I look her squarely in the eye, reminding her it was a joint effort and I couldn't have done it without her.
buttons down her back. . .
Today I'm thankful for pearl discs that fit into minuscule holes, baby blue eyes, and for my girl who possesses unending patience and a beautiful heart.