My entire pregnancy, I sat wondering what you would look like. There were so many different ways you could’ve looked. You could have gotten your great-grandmother’s dark skin. Your grandfather’s dark hair. Your mother’s long face. But you didn’t get any of those things. And I knew you wouldn’t the whole time. Just like before you even were a girl, I knew you would be a girl. And before I ever saw you, I knew you’d have those big ears. The last time your father saw you, he said to me “I wonder what she’s going to be like when she’s older”, and I said to him “I think she’s going to be like you”. And maybe I’m wrong this time. Maybe you won’t be like him. Maybe you’ll be like me. Maybe you won’t be like either of us. But I will love you, no matter who you are. No matter what you’re like. You are so perfect to me, and you always will be.
You learn things so quickly. You hear a noise, and you copy it. When a face is made at you, you make that face back. Someone does something with their hands, and you do that same thing with your hands. When you get hurt, you don’t cry. You love dogs, a lot. You’re shy around loud people. You eat all the foods. When a camera is in front of your face, you always smile at it. You are the perfect mix of adventure lady and lazy bum. I couldn’t have asked for a better child. You are the best, the best one for me.
I love you.
Wednesday May 23 @ 01:27pm
