You look through the baby book I am making you and point and say "ba-ba" at every picture, completely unaware that it was you - is you. But then, I too look at every photograph and then at the bright, big toddler at my feet and cannot comprehend that time has transformed you in such marvelous ways. You, my little baby girl, are so different than the tiny infant in the pictures, and yet so the same. You still hold your hands near your face when you are at rest; you still sleep on your side; and when your hand brushes my cheek I am still, forever, brought back to that first moment when I held you, naked and newly born in my arms, and your small fist rose from the water to touch my face. Some things do not change.
- ovember 7, 2015