When I first found out about you I quickly put all of my hopes in check. I decided that I would only allow myself to hope for the small things.
I never let myself get very far ahead….
So next I hoped for your first steps. Your first words. A mother’s morning out.
And still next I hoped that by some miraculous chance your birth heart would last a little longer. That your puffy eyes and swollen stomach could be something viral instead of a new disease. I never let myself dream of Kindergarten.
But somehow today hope by hope, little by little, chance by chance, provision by provision you bravely walked into Kindergarten. You were dressed in plaid, the same one your sister wore last year. You picked out a bow from Audrey’s outgrown pile. And you had sparkly new size 13 shoes on your feet. How did they ever grow so big?
You smiled the whole way. Knowing that you made it. And I smiled too giving myself permission to hope for the next set of things.