Some days I'm just grateful

Some days are just that way.  It hits me.  All over again.

That smell of her hair after a bath.
The big-girl look of her in her new jammies.
The tiny fingers that wrap around mine, using me for balance.
Her wobbly steps.
The grin that says, "I'm so proud of myself!"
The way she shovels food, double fisted, into her mouth.
Little hands asking for more.
Her enthusiasm when she repeats words.
The joy when I play along after she growls.  "Ahhh!  A scary lion!" I exclaim, and she grins.
That face when she sleeps.
Those open mouth kisses. 

The future.  The swim lessons.  The backpacks.  The sharpened colored pencils, labled with LMS.  The trips to Water World.  The Halloween costumes.  The track meets or dance recitals or softball games or marching band competitions.  The prom dresses. 

The fact that she is here at all.

My joy.  My heart.  My treasure.  My undeserved blessing.  My answer to prayer.  My reason for being.  For being good.  For working hard.  For being better tomorrow than I was today.  For trying harder. 

My healthy, happy baby. 

Sorry.  I meant, Big Girl.