Listening to the wind and the rain rattle both the trees and my neighbor's wind chimes.
The storms must have woken Emma up at some point, as she's cuddled up against me, snoring her kitten snore. So sweet, she still smells of last night's bubble bath, toothpaste and the coconut conditioner she loves. She turns 7 on Friday, and I think she has some lingering anxiety over 'growing up'. She has such a wild, precocious spirit, that the thought of the conformity of her 'growing up', is giving me a fair amount of angst as well. My wanna-be rockstar, with sensitive earlobes and a penchant for candles and vanilla sandlewood incense...how I wish i could cradle you in your youthful, brilliant innocence forever.
You with your Filipino grandmother's nose, and your American grandmother's delicate and slender hands. You with your well-timed comedic interjections that make even your overly cynical teen siblings guffaw with laugher. You with your soft little hands and pedicured, flowery toes, insisting it's the shoes, not your feet that smell so bad. You, my fae little pixie are most precious to me...
The house is quiet, for these brief few moments...as a home with 5 children is hardly ever quiet. In this quiet, I offer bountiful thanks for the Universe and Mother/Father God bestowing the mighty boon of you...to me.
I am forever blessed.
Sent from my iPhone. Please excuse any typos.