“Mommy, I am going to miss little Logan,” my daughter said to me about herself as I bathed her. Tears swelled in my eyes and I suddenly felt a heaviness in my chest. The approaching birthday for my daughter has left me sentimental and longing for her baby days.
I am grateful for another year. My goodness, a birthday is a gift. It is the opportunity for gratitude for the year we were given and the hope for what another will bring. Kind of like New Years minus the ball drop and noisy blow horns.
Although a ball dropped on me as the months turned to weeks, then days, then hours, and suddenly I sit here staring at a four year old before me.
The best way to describe this feeling is to imagine holding a flower and pulling a petal. Do you remember as a child grabbing a daisy and saying, “He loves me, he loves me not,” as each petal dropped to the ground? Except for me, each petal represents another year gone and another year of her growth.
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