It doesn’t seem like four years ago that we met you. Those three days happened yesterday and a lifetime ago. Those were a few tough days. You sure fought to be here. Mommy sure fought for you to be here, too. A lifetime ago and just yesterday. That was the first time I was proud of you.
Tomorrow that will be four years ago.
A lot of full days between then and now. I think of you sleeping on my chest and going for bike rides and reading books and days at our favorite park by the boats. Bowls of orange soup and simple steps on a black road and baths in a blue tub. Four years of your songs, singing softly to me.
Tomorrow you will already be four years old.
I don’t have a baby anymore. You think of this world as well as your place in it. You seem to discover everyday just how big you are now, which is what allows you to see just how small you are still. I know you struggle with that, Bug. I want to help so much, to make it easier somehow, but I know that struggle is part of growing up. Know that I will always be here when you need me.
Tomorrow, though, you will just be four years old.
Though your words and your vision may fool us, and yourself, that baby on my chest isn’t that small in the rearview mirror. Moments remind us of that. But they are just moments now. The picture of you, while still being drawn, has so much more detail.
Tomorrow you will be four years old.
My oldest child, my first daughter, my little friend, my sensitive girl, my Bug will be four years old tomorrow. So many tears and smiles we have shared. I am so proud to be your daddy. I am who I am because of you. Thank you for all you’ve taught me.
Happy Birthday – I love you so much.