Saturday, March 30, 2013


March 28

I watch my little one through the window of her preschool as she plays outside. I like to arrive a bit early so I can catch a glimpse of her going about her school day.

She loves for me to be the first one to pick her up. I love to see her face as she sees me. I love the feeling of her little body running into my arms. We walk to the bench at the end of the hall and stop for a moment to look at that days creations. She loves words and loves to talk. This is how we reconnect. While my older daughter wants a hug and a snack to feel close again my little one needs a conversation.

When we get home she puts on her purple wings and spends the rest of the afternoon flitting around the house and deck as a fairy. We head outside and play on the swings. She shows me how her wings can flap as she glides back and forth. She narrates our time: talking talking talking. Where do the words come from? How does she find so much to say? "I'm a water fairy, I have powers, watch," she says as she shoots her fingers forward. "But the mean fairies want to take my powers so I have to go like this," she continues crossing her arms. On the story goes. I listen, pushing the swing, marveling at this little person in front of me.

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