Nothing triggers my nostalgia for sweet Bea's days of being little more than fondling through her clothes.
It seems sort of shallow, but it's the absolute truth.
A few days ago while Bea was napping and the house was quiet, I decided to organize in a box that contains clothes she's outgrown and clothes that she does not yet fit into.
I can remember my finding or making little dresses here and there for her to one day wear. The days come. She wears and outgrows. She lives and laughs. She crawls and walks. She babbles and toddles. She runs and sings. She laughs and converses. She throws a tantrum and gives hugs and kisses. All this living and all this growing happening beneath the little clothes drapped upon her ever-growing body. I'm reminded again at how fast it all happens. Within a moment, a day, a season there is a new person unfolding. Always unfolding.
She's in and out of these little garments before she ever really wears them out. And I'm left holding onto them questioning the smallness of their sizes. "Were you really that little just a few months ago?"
The future always feels so far away. The past feels like yesterday.
