Written November 17
This was an unexpected feeling--I think sleep deprivation must make one more sentimental!
As I stare way too long at her fingers and toes, I think, "I hope that they stay this perfect." I find myself becoming sad at the thought of her fingers turning like mine or mom's, succumbing to arthiritis. Or worse, the thought of her big toe looking like Jesse's, because it's just ugly--sorry, honey bunches.
And what about her skin! It's free of scabs and scars. It's smooth and smells like innocence and sweetness.
Her facial expressions are untainted and free. She doesn't hold back because she's scared of what her contortions might look like to others. She lets herself fall into loving arms because she enjoys it and isn't ashamed to admit the fact. She sleeps and dreams and it must be sound sleep and sweet dreams.
I want to preserve the perfection of her physical, mental, and emotional states. And gosh, what about the spiritual realm? Is there a plane that shows these states' diminishing levels?
I think that I am developing a new understanding/reading of the parable of the talents. Funny what little babies do to you...
I have this strong urge to put her in a bubble and keep culture and nature and even nurture away from her. At this state, she is pure and perfect. I want to preserve everything about her.
And yet, I want her to see sunshine and feel rain. I want her to read and to learn. I want her to hear music and smell food. I want her to run through fields of gold even if that means she might fall and skin her knee (and gosh, that's hard for me to think about).
I want her to invest in the world and claim something more and something greater than perfection.