this is a daily occurrence. my shoes are constantly scattered across the house from little feet prancing around in them for hours, magic wand in hand, directing the invisible symphony that i'm certain plays beautifully in her head.
someday she will actually fit into my shoes and i'll want to slow down time as she slips out from under my wing and into the real world. i know this is how life is supposed to happen, but it makes my heart hurt a little. i do cherish each milestone, but i know i'll miss this once it's passed.
i can already see how she'll always be watching and learning from me. i will show her how to be a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend. i will show her how to love and serve and encourage. she needs so much from me. they're big shoes to fill, but i intend to fill them until she must fill them up herself.
someday she'll dress up and head out the door to her senior prom. and, Lord help us, a long aisle where her prince charming waits at the end to make her his bride.
and i can already promise you that this is how i'll remember her. three years old in a cinderella costume. twirling, admiring, gazing long in the mirror. it's a bittersweet thing, motherhood is.
recently i feel the urge to slow down, to sit down, to put down whatever i'm doing and be present. hours will melt into days that melt into years. and those years plan to rush on by without looking back or asking my permission. it's up to me to soak up every last drop, every smell, every sound.
motherhood in the trenches is not easy, not even close. but it is fleeting and it is precious. and i intend not to regret it.