I’ve been bogged down by edits this last while, and I’m feeling a little expressive this morning, so here goes a little free flow:
Today I lay flat on my belly and wiggle myself across the wooden floor like a caterpillar.
My muscles strain, my lungs expand, and I giggle as I finish the movement, feeling like a child. Feeling like you.
Seven years ago you came and have inhabited my focus ever since, imprinted on my soul. Today, I take the day to contemplate me. For a birthdate is as important for the bearer as to the one being born. I wonder — what metamorphosis have I undergone in this time?
Seven years ago I walked until me feet bled, readying my body to release you, and two hours later you were here.
Today, I wiggle, ready to release myself. What will I be? Will my wings be red, emerald, turquoise, fuchsia? Perhaps they will never settle into one colour, but will shift and tremble with each passing mood.
My metamorphosis would have been very different had you not come into my life. Your smile, laughter, they are contagious, seeds scattered in the wind, spreading wide. Your endless thrive for experience, for life, your desire to share, your interpretations and wonder. You. All of you. Thank you for you teaching me, for showing me, how full of joy life can be, how much fun it can be.
Happy birthday, daughter.