The early morning light is coming in through my bedroom window. From my bed, I can look across the room to where my daughters sleep on their mattresses on the floor.
The girls’ bedroom make-over project has taken far longer than we had anticipated. So, instead of rooming with us for just a few days, they have slept in our room for the past couple of weeks.
I don’t mind too much, actually. There is something rather reassuring when you see the things most precious to you as soon as your eyes open.
This particular day, as I glance across the room, I notice that Eden has slept with her butterfly net. It was an early birthday present from her grandmother, and hasn’t left her side for three days now. Another reminder that my baby is having a birthday this week.
It’s a rather big birthday at that. She’s turning six, which sounds incredibly older and more mature than merely being five. My husband says that five is the last of the little years and I believe him. There are oceans between five and six. Galaxies.
The signs of her aging are easy to see today. Eden takes up more of the mattress now as she sleeps in her bed, her legs stretched out straight and long. Her hands have lost the dimpled chubbiness that toddlers have. Instead, her fingers are thin and nimble so she can practice her piano lessons or try to tie her shoes.
The baby part of her has silently melted away these past few years, slowly but surely, and now it’s shocking to realize in that tiny one’s place is a gangly kid who has bruises on her knees from trying to ride a bicycle. A kid who has her own favorite songs on the radio and is allowed to use the microwave.
And now, this particular morning as I notice how much she has grown, I am left a little blinded and teary-eyed. As if I have stared at the sun too long.
She is dazzling. Dazzling.