Por ella

Her body has always fit perfectly against mine. I realized it this morning when she crawled in bed with me at 4am, a frozen three year old popsicle. As toddlers often do, she had taken off half the articles of clothing I'd put her to bed in and was now seeking warmth. She found my bed with her eyes closed, not quite awake, as if a magnet had just pulled her to me. She snuggled up next to my body and sleepily said "abrazame." She's cuddliest at this early hour of the morning and hugging her is my most favorite thing to do, so I contently complied. I hugged her. I pulled her against me and let her wriggle to comfort, and then I pulled her against me again. And as she always does, she fit perfectly. Her blond hair tickled my nose and her little fingers intertwined with mine.

Her skin against mine always awakens my senses because I am reminded that as much as she is an extension of me, her skin is tangible proof that she is her own person. It is a terrifying and amazing thoight. She is a beautiful little girl. She is awesomeness and energy and light. She is laughter and joy and innocence. I take in the sweet smell of her hair and count her breaths as her little round belly rises and falls.

I always feel so peaceful when she is here but I have to be careful not to dwell on the feeling for too long. When I do, the stillness turns to a million questions and I start feeling so very responsible. She trusts me with her life. Her deep sleep is proof that she believes she can get lost in her dreams because I am right here. The responsibility feels overwhelming and it does not let me sleep.

I feel like making lists, building forts and climbing mountains to make sure I never let her down. I begin to analyze every decision I've made and every word I've said to her in the last few days. Did I do the right thing? Did I say the right thing? Did I use words that empower and educate? Have I helped her become a better person today than she was yesterday?

I think about the world she lives in and how little of it is within my control. I think about her and how her daddy and I have been charged with molding her mind and her heart. I think about her dreams- the ones she now entrusts me with- and I pray I can give her the tools to help her achieve them. I think about her fears, and I pray I can give her the resources to help her conquer them. I think about her heart, and I pray it never looses its kindness while remaining strong. And I wonder, again, what I so often wonder... How can I raise her to be the future while making sure she is prepared for the present?