flower-headingThis is the longest I have ever gone without writing since this blog began. The time swept by in one fell sweep, carrying me seamlessly from one year into the next. Yet tangling me in too many projects to keep up with them all. The sudden rush of chaos had nothing to do with chasing promises of goals and aspirations in the new year. In fact, it had little to do with any of that. It just so happens that we are in a time of movement, propelling forward with each breath. It also happens to be January.

December was a big one for me, a month for the records in my newfound writing career. This blog and the affiliated Facebook page quite suddenly catapulted in popularity, keeping me swamped in maintenance and reciprocation. My cup was full, but apparently not full enough. In the same swirl of energy, I earned a raise at my current freelance writing job and with it a challenger to write infinitely more. This meant triple my previous pay and pressure to write 20 full length articles at a whopping 3,000 words a piece.

I was grateful for January and for the relief that it promised. And all in good time, I woke up one morning last week to discover that my toddler had blossomed into a girl overnight. She rose all aglow full of passion for make up and hair bows, tea parties and dollies. She also started writing and reading and pleading for instructions in her art. Clearly she is passing through a milestone, and for this she needed me desperately and incessantly. I wouldn’t miss these moments for anything, and I willingly discarded all distractions of heaven and earth, to be immersed in her world.


Yesterday, I let her entrance me with nothing more than her sheer presence. She draped herself in pearls and a floaty white dress and began to prance through house in the late afternoon glow. Together, we melted into the moment, like the dreams of all little girls. I lay on my back against the humid tile floors and gazed up at her, as she twirled about, tapping tapping her feet to a rhythm all her own. Never before had I seen such grace as I noted a whimsical child with no hint of the infant I once knew. She lifted herself into the air, revealing to me, the most perfect dirty black feet. A hint of the true tale, of a wild little girl lost in the bliss of a magical dance.

I admired her long, lean limbs and youthful, glowing cheeks as she twirled with her eyes closed, hair tangling mid-air.And I thought to myself, how much longer will this last? How much longer will she stay mine? How many more times will she promise me to never grow up? How many more minutes until she turns five this year? In my mind, I painted her picture, to be ingrained in my memory for all time; as I watched her dance into this next phase of her life.

And just like that, she dropped to the floor, in a puddle full of giggles, reaching for my hand.We stayed that way for a very long couple of minutes, fingers twisted together, laughing for no apparent reason. And then we padded off and out of the room, to the balcony, in seek of fresh, salty air. We admired the scene together and I reminisced on our last almost-year here. We are a long, long way from home, from the place she came to when she entered this life, from the time that she began this family that is now mine.

From here I will watch her blossom into the angel that she is, inevitably tall and bronzed and blonde. Destined to stand out in this land of tiny, curvy Latinas. And I will remember this now and forever, to stop and slow down a bit. To be careful not to miss the puzzles that make up her milestones. To acknowledge that a week of missed writing is so worth all of this.