And I realize: She doesn’t need a perfect mother. She just needs me .
But she is also her own person. Fierce where I was shy. Loud where I learned to be quiet. Watching her navigate the world is like reading a beautiful book where I already know the beginning but am desperate to see how her unique chapter unfolds. mom little girl
So I will soak up the messy ponytails, the crayon on the walls, the 4 a.m. bed invasions, and the endless chorus of "Mommy, watch this!" And I realize: She doesn’t need a perfect mother
Because this is the short season. The golden one. The one where "mom" and "little girl" are still one heartbeat. the crayon on the walls