A daughter to be proud of

Amelia turns seven months old today. What a big girl she would have been. Instead, she is even bigger, and better to some degree. As I was driving over for a visit this morning, I realised that instead of twenty or so years, it took just nine months for my baby to reach independence. She is, after all, a land owner and is very self-sufficient. She is mature beyond her years, for she knows what very few of us only suspect. She is as beautiful as an angel can be, even more so in my eyes.

You might think it's just my imagination, but I have been getting to know my daughter for the last seven months, and she is as real as you and I.  She is stronger, smarter, and kinder than anyone else I know. She makes flowers bloom (like a single bloom on her lilac tree in late August), she opens up the clouds so that the sun shines on me when I visit her. She even made the rain stop on a few occasions. And she saved my life, twice, in the last seven months. I know it, as I was there. So, compared to an average seven month old, she is a genius. And I love her more each day.

Those who don't have children in heaven, or whatever you call it, think it's magical thinking. Still, every bereaved parent I met told me they feel their children, they communicate with them. We don't call gravity "magic" anymore, do we?

Amelia's Garden