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How many words on my blog have been devoted to the joy of having a daughter?  Many, certainly.

Czarina got a book for Christmas called, “The Girl Who Could Fly.”  She’s been wanting me to read it, and I picked it up a few days ago.  I read for a while, and a few chapters in, a small green leaf flittered out.  Her bookmark.

Watching it flutter to the ground, I was swept up again in the uniqueness, the loveliness of her.  This sweet girl, who takes her book up onto a comfortable tree limb, and reads in the dappled afternoon light, is mine.  This freckled, curly-headed, long-legged girl who plucks a leaf to hold her place when she hears my voice calling her inside, is my daughter, for always.  This bit of beautiful that started out so small and rosy and smelling like happiness– is blossoming before my very eyes.  Is anything so stunning as this unfolding?

She is the sunshine of our home, casting light in a room when she enters.  Oh, I love the boys, every one of them.  They make me laugh and rejoice in countless ways, too.  But there is something about this girl that makes our world a better place.  She is patient and kind and funny and lovely throughout.  She glows with the kind of light that lasts forever– the kind of light that draws you to her.  You can see what a pretty baby she was, what a beautiful young woman she will be, what a sweet little old lady she will grow into- all in her eyes.

She’s going to have some kind of life.

So if I dwell on her often, if I write again and again how special she is, do forgive me.  This moment, these words, are my bookmark.  They are my leaves in the pages, so I can come back and remember always, who she is right now.

This moment is me, saving my place.

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