My Lorelei, at last you grew out of the first outfit you ever wore. In a matter of days (it fit you perfectly last week!) you’re big enough to embody the whole two-month change from crumpled, quiet newborn to grinning, gurgling little person. This short life in which you’ve grown and become, so strong and strong-willed, already embraces all our hopes for your future; the dreams you will accomplish, the challenges and fears you will conquer, with us two right behind you to the very end.
How can such a little thing mean so much? Washing an item of clothing, never to bear your scent again. Placing it on the ‘too small’ pile, another thing growing by the day. In every tiny action of caring for one sleepsuit – which, by the way, you gave a wonderfully messy send-off – there was a reminder of the rituals of letting go we will face before long.
No matter how much I long to hear your first laugh, or your first word, I never want to lose you to time. That sadness stops me wishing your life away, holding me in the moment. Mindful of the living Force, if you will. Telling me just to enjoy every smile, and each new way you find to say how much I mean to you.
As fast as the time seems to fly, it’s the changes beyond the windows that comfort me. When we brought you home, it was snowing. When I washed that outfit, the weather was more than fine for hanging it out on the line. My snow baby who brought the spring, born with the snowdrops just like me, we have so many seasons left to share.