Narnia

You wrung out the cloth as best you could, your toddler hands kneading the water logged towel gently. "It's a mess in here" you muttered to yourself and I heard my words tumble off your tongue, newly claimed and wholly owned. Deliberate and sure you moved towards the living room, a trail of water marked your path like so many bread crumbs - Gretel's insurance that she could find her way back.

You sank to your knees and made slow circles on my beaten hardwood floors. Gentle determination with your wax on and off motion carried you forth until you reached your first obstacle. "Goddammit" you curse as you hurl the Barbie toward the toy box and I wince. You are my mirror. And I seem to be a wicked Queen who curses and cleans and mutters under her breath.

Your older brother - always acting the clown. Hurls himself from the couch to the floor and slips on the newly washed hardwood. He scrapes his elbow and his hysterics are sharply contrasted by your calm. You step towards our medicine cabinet and insist I grab the alcohol and Q-tips. You nurse his injury until his tears dry and I think that despite my bad habits and poor example there is light in there also - a mother worthy of you.

You're a week away from three. One week where two will be lost to time and terrible was an exaggeration as well as an understatement. Sometimes I have to rub my eyes and force their focus because it doesn't seem possible that this colic baby is suddenly a girl. You seem to have morphed as suddenly as any horror movies werewolf, but instead of claws and teeth you have curls and personality.

The day winds down and the night settles upon us. I place you into your big girl bed as your eyes nervously search him out. You will not sleep without your big brother - he is your security object. After confirming and re-confirming his form you settle in and snuggle up with your mickey mouse stuffy. I open up "The Magicians Nephew" by C.S. Lewis and read you another chapter. You fall asleep within minutes; and although I'm sure you do not understand the words within its pages, it's the cadence of my voice that soothes you. I imagine you stepping through the wardrobe, or putting on those magic rings, and entering the land of dreams into the magic of Narnia...

If it were my wish this week, my candle to blow out, I would pray that you might travel there every night. Forever ageless, always innocent, and a child whose imagination is never beaten by the frayed and tattered edges of this world - one I can only keep from you for so long.

Three years old - so small and yet a big girl.

Happy Birthday Eden.


I love you.