Friday, August 28, 2009

She is One

It was her birthday. One year old. How could the time fly so quickly? In one year she had gone from a small bundle totally dependent on the hands that held her to a child who picked up her food and fed herself (or the cat), she knew that her shoe went on her foot but despite all efforts, she couldn't seem to get it in place. She said a handful of words that only a loving parent coud understand. When she wanted more, she signed. When she didn't want something, she tossed it onto the floor. Her crawling on all fours had advanced to movement much like a walking wind-up toy. She was still dependent for most everything but ruled with determination. Dislikes: sleeping. Likes: Rock n’ Roll Elmo. Favorite pastime: Reading the same book over and over and over again until both the reader and listener knew it by heart. My granddaughter, Sydney, had turned one.

Somehow I don’t think birthdays should be for the person who is born. I truly believe that they should be for the parents of the child. For this is the day they are blessed with a miracle and a love they will never experience in any other way.

So what is the point, you ask? The point is that in the beginning we are loved by a parent or parents who love us in a way that no one else will ever love us. We are born into their lives. Parents watch every little thing about us from the first moment they saw us until the last time they we met. They have worried for us, cried for us, laughed with us and laughed at us. They hurt when we hurt and reveled at the good things in our lives.

A child’s birthday gives a gift to parents that means more every year. They are loved more deeply as they age and carry that love with forever.
Sydney had turned one.

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