Today was just Tuesday. Emma and I dropped Joshua off at school and then made our way back to the house. I poured a cup of coffee and looked into the office and decided to hang the curtains.
I gathered the step-ladder and the drill. I rounded up the measuring tape and a pencil. She explored the new space we’re carving out in our home with gusto.
I stepped into the kitchen and turned back and looked through the doorway and I saw her there in the office, standing on the step-ladder, looking out the window. An apple slice in one hand and a crayon in the other, and looking. Eagerly and with open eyes.
That’s my Emma. Always looking. Always exploring and learning and growing and knowing.
Sometimes I wonder what she’s thinking, this girl of mine.
What does she think while she’s exploring and observing her world?
Does she see how my heart soars when she learns a new word? Or how I melt when she tucks her head into my neck? Does she understand that when I hold her my arms are busy memorizing the weight of her body and I’m breathing her in hoping I’ll never forget what she’s like in that moment?
She’s so inquisitive. Curious about everything. And determined. Persistent. I love her tenacity and the twinkle in her eye.
But I especially love the quiet moments like this one where I become the observer and she is just Emma.