Because I'll Forget part 3
Hannah,
I know I'll forget the way you break into a huge smile when I put Grandma on speaker phone...
The way you like to feel each of my fingers, and fingernails while you fall asleep...
The way you stoutly walk, carefully lifting each chubby leg...
How you love it if I clap my hands and when I stop you grab my hands to make me clap again...
How you like crayons - to bite into pieces and chew on them until I fish them out of your mouth - and if you happen upon a bar of soap, it meets the same fate!
I'm sure I'll forget how you are trying to make syllable sounds and often forget to turn your voice on, so you look like a gaping goldfish.
I'll forget how when I take you for a walk in the stroller, you'll twist and turn and peek up at me through the 'sun-roof' window on the canopy.
I will forget the long six weeks of separation anxiety when you wouldn't be parted from me in the Church nursery - and how I held you for those Sunday mornings and tried to let you know I will be here for you.
I'll probably forget your wide open-mouth smiles when I push you in the swing in the back yard. And how if I set you down on the grass, you'll try and eat it.
But for all these things, as I write them, I won't forget but I'll wonder that these days ever happened, for as you grow the new, changing you will replace the not-talking, not running, not playing with imagination you. The baby you will leave behind as you grow is easy to forget. But I'll keep these thoughts to make sure I remember.
I know I'll forget the way you break into a huge smile when I put Grandma on speaker phone...
The way you like to feel each of my fingers, and fingernails while you fall asleep...
The way you stoutly walk, carefully lifting each chubby leg...
How you love it if I clap my hands and when I stop you grab my hands to make me clap again...
How you like crayons - to bite into pieces and chew on them until I fish them out of your mouth - and if you happen upon a bar of soap, it meets the same fate!
I'm sure I'll forget how you are trying to make syllable sounds and often forget to turn your voice on, so you look like a gaping goldfish.
I'll forget how when I take you for a walk in the stroller, you'll twist and turn and peek up at me through the 'sun-roof' window on the canopy.
I will forget the long six weeks of separation anxiety when you wouldn't be parted from me in the Church nursery - and how I held you for those Sunday mornings and tried to let you know I will be here for you.
I'll probably forget your wide open-mouth smiles when I push you in the swing in the back yard. And how if I set you down on the grass, you'll try and eat it.
But for all these things, as I write them, I won't forget but I'll wonder that these days ever happened, for as you grow the new, changing you will replace the not-talking, not running, not playing with imagination you. The baby you will leave behind as you grow is easy to forget. But I'll keep these thoughts to make sure I remember.
Comments
Post a Comment