OUR MALI

These last few days before we send our girl out into the world are tender. I'm trying to savor every last drop. She's been so loving and affectionate to all of us, maybe somehow filling us up for when her days are spent in school. Some of the things I've heard her say are, "Daddy, I love you as tall as the trees and as wide as the sky" and "Mama, my heart and your heart -- they are the same." She's played generously and lovingly with Greta for entire days at a time, giving herself to her sister tirelessly. The other day, I realized her insight was more than I knew when she said, "Mama, when I go to school, I'm going to miss you a whole, whole lot. But I just realized there will probably be other kids at school who are lonely and shy, too, and maybe if we're friends we can help each other."

I'm ill-prepared for this transition, because I have no idea what it holds. I know it's going to be hard, but that's all I know. Even if I feel secure in how Mali does, and even if I'm thrilled with where she's going (and honestly, I'm not thrilled about the public schools -- just okay with it for now), there's still the emotion of time passing too quickly. I've found myself holding onto baby pictures of Mali that I find around the house -- hanging them up on the fridge or wherever. I guess that's me wanting to hold on, knowing it's time to let go.

And I must remember how valuable each day is. . . that every day I've spent with her has been a gift. Her kindness and loving spirit is something to share with the rest of the world! As she puts it, "Mama, I have enough love to fill the whole world!"