My Girl

Sometimes, she asks me to tell her something about her

like, was I moving in my sleep? Or, what was my hair like when I was a baby?

and then she watches me so closely, so carefully, so enthralled.

But it's not because she wants to hear about herself (I mean she does, of course, we all do),

but because she wants to hear ME talk about HER.

She just loves that I love her --

and sometimes, when I'm caught off-guard by that spectacular truth,

it stuns me.

She is four and I am her mother, and as such, I am perfect.

I am beautiful and smart and EVERYTHING and she loves that I love HER.

It's overwhelming in those moments, the enormity of that trust, that innocence, that expectation --

I feel totally unworthy, and humbled and sometimes, a little guilty. But she is my baby girl, and I do love her,

fiercely.

And as time wears on and the illusion of me slowly disintegrates,

I pray that we can forge an even deeper relationship, built on authenticity and unconditional love.

Today, I took a selfie with my best girl as we stopped for lunch while hiking.

This girl. I love that she loves me.