You are so beautiful. So innocent, so satisfied, so loved.
When I look in the mirror, I get lost in your big brown eyes that used to wait for their story to unfold. They still wait, but these days they've got a little more to tell. Your eyes are so clear, filled with focus and determination. You don't know what you want but that's only because you want it all. Nothing can stop you. Nothing can blind those big brown eyes.
Your little ears shy away from loud movies and scary stories, but they strain to hear the soothing voices of mom and dad or the laughter of a playground. You can hear the sharpest sounds and the quietest whispers because you are always listening. Each voice sounds different and new, each more captivating than the last. You take it all in, but the music comes from your own head.
You speak with a patient gentleness, treating everyone the same. You gradually create your voice, developing each inflection, quirk and pause. You paint your personality with your words. You tell of book reports and dance class and sleepovers, unaware of restraint and unconcerned with gratification.
Your hands craft anything and everything. They design your dreams with detail and precision. Containing, grasping, pushing, pulling, cradling, stroking, clapping, lifting. Your hands teach you about the world, and they are covered in it. Glue, marker stains, chocolate, dirt, every kind of good smelling lotion. They are smooth and delicate, but they have gotten so much tougher. Different, but stronger. You always knew they would. When you touch, you also feel.
Your chubby little belly holds more than your food. It holds your laughter, which comes to define your sense of self. You eat to sustain but also to enjoy. You are what you eat, and you are filled with lovingly-prepared food. You eat to share a meal. You love black raspberry ice cream and grilled cheese sandwiches and openly share your disgust of baked beans with the world. You know what you like, and that is what you eat.
You plant your legs in sneakers and frilly white socks. You walk with two feet on the ground, marching everywhere with one foot in front of the other. You stretch and bend and twist. You hold up your little life with two equal pieces. You hold yourself up. You love to experiment, balancing on curbs on one foot or on a kickboard submerged in water. You feel no ache in your fresh, new legs. You stand very tall.
Your mind is the biggest part of you. Your brain grows bigger each day and you are eager to learn. There are strings connecting that fascinating mind of yours to your beating heart. Your mind doesn't seem to work quite right without it. They tell you that you're smart and you believe it. You show them how smart you are. You are a thinker, and the best part of you is all of the thoughts you produce. They all come from you, from your encounters with the world, from the unbridled ideas you invent.
Teach me to be like you. Remind me that I've still got your spark; now, it's just tinged with some wisdom. When I've lost my way, when I need peace, I think of you, the little girl I used to be.
She's still within, and she's so beautiful.