Six. A flower dress that twirls just so...

January 24, 2017

Kansas City, Missouri

Six. A flower dress that twirls just so, a case of new crayons and markers, a radio all her own.  Six is on fire and alive, free and unhindered.  She's still young, but beginning to see it a deeper way. The light soars through her mind and spills out her eyes.  The same eyes that met us that bitter January day, when our only car had died, so we borrowed my brother's jeep and drove to the hospital.  She came out screaming, shaking our world and we've never been the same.

Six already knows that music speaks to her soul, so she rocks and dances and when she worships, she doesn't know the words, but her heart leads the way.  Six creates countless drawings a day, so we cram them in books and magazines because each one is crafted by an artist.  We don't keep them all, but sometimes when we open a book, treasure spill out, covered with flowers and birds. Her current obsession is drawing houses. Tall ones, fat ones, pink, striped, houses that are shooting through outer space and adorned in bows.  Houses for days. I might be sad when this phase ends.

At the end of her day, sitting quietly in the dark, her glowing eyes catch the only light that streams in the room and I whisper, how amazing that God let me be your mom?  She melted into my arms and I squeezed for dear life.

My great feat, my great adventure.

happy birthday, my fire girl.