Whew. Another year gone in just a day it seems. I'm always relieved when birthdays pass and my day returns to being just another box on a calendar, marked by slow, forgettable minutes, hours, days of the same routine that is life. In some ways it is sad to know that I will not pinpoint this day in time, remembering the lively sparkle of sunshine on Little Berry's hair as we take our afternoon walk, the smile my daughter flashed at a stranger in a wheel chair, or the kisses she planted on my mouth after I gave her a sip of my cocoa this morning. It is not a memorable day, not a spectacular day, it is only another moment in time lasting as briefly as the last.
But as I watch Pappa Starbucks taking out the trash and little berry fuss over a toy wedged between the cushions, needing a nap for her and a hair-tie to tidy up myself, I do wish that I could steal these moments away and never lose them, never have to wish I could remember that faint dimple on her face or that I could reach out and take her teeny hands inside my own because I would be there, breathing them, living them, smelling over and over again the crest of her perfect tiny head and sweet baby ears, holding her in my lap trying or grabbing me and trying to nurse in the store will be faint memories, but I also know my love for her will stay just as all encompassing as it is today, just as intense, just as perfect, tangible, and frighteningly bright.
That much, I know for sure.