She is four-years-old, and knows only sunshine. Even when it rains, the sun soon returns for her, and I breathe her in. Like a drug delivering a pure dose of light to every vein.
A few moments ago, her sunshine beamed at me. ‘Mum! There is a surprise! Come! Come!’
She slid her warm little hand into mine. ‘Close your eyes.’
My eleven-year-old son lead me through the front door, while little miss sunny days directed me to the end of the porch. ‘Open your eyes!’ she shouted.
So I did.
And there it was. A new Rose, white and perfect, gently blowing in the wind.
We’ve been watching the small buds appear for a week or two. We’ve wondered when they’ll bloom. Together. Oh, the magic of it all!
And then, a Rose.
Our Rose.
A reminder that Motherhood blooms in the sweetest ways.
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