A letter to my newly born daughter
As I lift you up to a standing position, here on your petite, wobbly legs, you can barely hold your head up straight as it bobs from side to side. At only 14 weeks old, the only constant these days is your intense gaze. Here on your mommy and daddy’s bed, I hold you upright while you continuously adjust your unsteady stance, entranced by the soft glow of our bedside lamp. Viewing you from this angle, I recognize for the first time the depth and richness of your eyes, a never-ending void of refracting mirrors where hues of purple and blue, akin to ocean waves, are revealed.
Our eyes meet, creating a connection that I find difficult to articulate. As I raise you above my head, we slowly spin around in unison, and I ask you, “Where are we going, Bella… Where are we going?”. I find myself lost in a world where we are the only ones alive. Your smile is my raison d’etre (reason to be).
For now, our journey is towards the other side of this circle we’re dancing in, but what about in ten, twenty, or fifty years? Right now, you are cradled in my arms, but we both are voyaging through this experience called life. I am blessed by our moments like this together; as will you be with your own children someday. I will treasure our time together, now and forever, until my final days and beyond.
I love you, Bella
