Both Parts Older and Younger
Her hair is mussed in the back remnants of an active sleepy night time. She is framed by the window--brightness sneaking into our black hotel room. She stares out the window as I stare at her. My heart expands and grows...if that's possible. Seeing her in her growing, maturing body but still with the ruffled hair-- I ache. She is both parts older and younger. And I am both parts nostalgic and excited. She's my baby. She will always be my baby. But she is also her own. And becoming more so every day. It's watching her at the orthodontist, her hands clasped in worry...just like I do. It's watching her in taekwondo, with the soles of her feet flying through the air in an arc. It's her pouty face full of attitude when she is being forced to do something she doesn't want. It's her squealy "Thank you, Mom!" at the drive-thru at Sonic as an ice cream shake is passed her way. It's talking about her crushes and her childish plans of what her weddin...