Last night, when I walked in the door from being away from home for exactly 24 hours ... you flew at me in a frenzy, catapulting your tiny body down the stairs, and into my arms.
It knocked me over, literally, and figuratively.
You surprised me.
You hugged, you squealed, you petted, and you cooed.
Mama home! Mama back! MamaMamaMama!
Oh, sweet girl, how you do a world of good, even on some of the darkest days.
I've always been proud and a bit boastful of your easygoing-ness. How you've never really cried when I've left you, or acted scared to be away from me. Sure- as your mother I'd feel a small pang of really, child? Can you not show some remorse as I'm leaving, show me you love me? But here, after all, and all along, you've shown me that. If you love something, you let it go. You let her go. And she'll come back.
You watched me like a hawk last night, and I didn't leave your sight much. You fell and got hurt, and I was there to pick you up and you wrapped your arms around my neck so tight. You were so quiet, you had your father concerned ... our little jabberbox silenced. Your heart beat in a steady rupruprup against mine. Back to you, back to me, back to us.