I see bits and pieces of myself in each of my children on a daily basis. Some good, some not.
Thoughtful; half-smiling with a slightly furrowed brow. His kindness shows through; his feelings he wears on his sleeve; no hiding; pure honesty; the joy, the sadness, the tears brought by anger. This is often times me; worrying about what is yet to be; thinking of tomorrows and the day after that; the unknowns no one controls.
Happy, smiling, eyes lit up with joy; her insides are sometimes in turmoil; her smile a cover; much the same as I was as a six year old. Seeking comfort in home; I hope I am her soft place to land after her hard days of hiding her true self; not yet finding her confidence within; not yet comfortable in her own skin. How is it that this is the trait I passed on to her?
When the world closes in; when the chaos becomes too much; when all I can do is throw up my hands and throw in the towel...I feel like my five year old, frustrations bubbling over; shrieking out, yelling "NO!"; wanting time to slow down and thoughts to stop swirling; wishing I had my blanket, my thumb, and a soft spot to crash.
How fearless she is; living life in the pure joy of the moment. Her flyaway curls; her pure reckless abandon running straight at you with giant bear hugs; wild, carefree, becoming ever-so independent; eyes always light up when they come to rest upon you. This is how I wish to be; living life to the fullest; so happy in the small things; so easy with her smiles, her laughs.
Some say a photograph steals the soul. This week, show us yours: take us into the moment that photograph was taken. Show us who you were then and what the photograph means.