Tonight, my daughter had some trouble getting to sleep. Well, no, she went to sleep just fine, only she couldn't stay asleep. Seems pinworms or something of the sort were causing her great grief and aggravating every other possible minor discomfort into something that demanded attention and wakefulness. I gave her the appropriate medicine, and as we waited for it to take effect, she said she wanted to go downstairs with me.
So, we sat on the couch, and I tried to encourage her to lay down and try to sleep. She flopped herself into my arms.
Watching her drift off to sleep, I couldn't help but be overcome. Still the same face that greeted me moments after birth with eyes wide with exploration. Only so much bigger. I wept with sheer gratitude for her existence. I thought how so soon she would resist my kisses, as her big brother already does and has for at least a year. I thought how soon she would be far too big for me to hold like this and to carry down the stairs.
But for now, I thought, you are only three, and here you are cuddled up in my arms!
I carried her, now sound asleep, back up to her bed -- all 38 pounds of her. She stirred a bit and remembered she had had reason to be uncomfortable earlier, but then dropped back into sleep.
I just want to hold this moment, this day, like the treasure it is. Not because I don't believe tomorrow will be an equal treasure, but because as long as I can marvel in today, tomorrow takes care of itself.