the shape of you

I hear three-year old feet padding softly toward my bedside. I try to ignore them, it’s too early for her to be up, and I think ahead to how much coffee I’ll need to get through the morning. I sigh, but she climbs over my somnolent form anyway and settles herself as close to me as she can. Her little body is turned toward me; my eyes are closed, but I hear the soft rhythmic popping sound that means she is sucking her thumb. She takes one warm hand out from beneath the covers, and rests it gently on my arm. After a minute or two, she starts rubbing my arm softly and then I hear her quietly whisper “Mommy. I like the shape of you.”

I smile, and snuggle her closer, and blue eyes meet across mere inches of pillow. I look at her with her soft blond hair splayed out, and think to myself no, I don’t want to be awake now, but yes, if I have to wake up then this is the way to go.

I like the shape of you too, little girl. Indeed I do.

Where I'm From

I saw this on Ali's site, and loved it so much that I actually decided to do it myself. Did you even remember that I have a blog? Yeah, me neither.

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I am from pink bikes with flowered banana seats, rotating sprinklers, Swensen’s ice cream and bookstores.

I am from hand-me down clothes and beach camping and shave ice and the feel of black vinyl seats on your legs in the summertime.

From climbing the carrotwood tree, watching the bees buzz through bottlebrush and the smell of star jasmine at night.

I am from eating olives off your fingers at Thanksgiving and laughing with you, never at you; from Moyers and Carys and Thoms and Juanitas and Nellies; from long car rides in various station wagons to Julian and Borrego Springs and Yosemite.

I am from repeated jokes and silly puns and friends who are like family.

From don’t forget to write thank-you notes, wear lipstick and sunscreen, you can have more than one friend at a time, and always honor your commitments even when you get a better offer.

I am from God’s love and mercy, forgiveness without judgment and the belief that people are always redeemable.

I'm from San Diego and Missouri and Illinois, from BLTs with homegrown tomatoes and homemade apple butter and pie crust and coffee cake.

From getting stitches caused by awkward tap dancing, chocolate doughnuts and chocolate milk, from watching the racehorses and going to the fair and laughing ourselves to sleep and sisters always telling what we got each other for Christmas. I am from Dad driving an hour and a half to get the hardware needed to hang up a lamp in my very first dorm room.

I am from family photos with bad hair, huge boxes of Grandma’s costume jewelry, notes on napkins that say "I love you," and learning that it’s okay if you fail but that showing up is often the most important thing.

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In her post, Ali points to this great template, in case you want to do one of your very own. And you should!