Little m Long a

Emotionally labile hardly seems adequate to describe the tenuous nature of your being.  Surely, though, everyone knows that a person who wears their heart openly is often prone to break down.

Your tiny heart is kept in a sachet, loosely pinned to your shirtsleeve.  It’s easier for you to share it from there.  Forget that it’s also more vulnerable there, this does not concern you.  Your little soul is much more content to give than to guard.

You are learning to write, to read.  I find it warming that the first words you chose to pen were love and flower.  You are both to me, personified.  Quick to cuddle, content with quiet.

“What can I do?  I want to help?”  These phrases spew forth on an endless loop, for it is in you to be there, to give.

The aww’s and the tears that flow at bedtime I have come to believe are real.  For you truly do not wish for the day to end, there’s life yet to be lived and the setting sun is but an obstacle.

I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet long after lights are out and I know that it is you continuing to dance, to dream out loud.  And I can’t help but smile.

Happy Birthday, Zia!  I love you, Curly Sue!!!

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Happy Birthday, Zia!