I can feel the chill finding it’s way through the cracks of the storm door, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. As she leans in, trying to press her head against the cool glass, I hold on tight to her stander so she doesn’t tip over.
She has the most beautiful profile. I have always hated mine. It’s the nose that goofs it up for me. But her nose…it is absolutely perfect.
Open fisted she bangs, bangs, bangs on the glass, desperately trying to get her sisters’ attention. Kendall sees her and quickly comes up to the door, eyes peeking out between hat and scarf.
Brooklyn is giggling as Kendall approaches, and she starts jerking back and forth in her stander in excitement. Kendall opens the door with a snow-covered mitten and gives her baby sister a snotty kiss on the head.
“Careful,” I say as she closes the door. Tiny fingers in door jams is one of my biggest Mommy fears.
Emma is now looking for Kendall, and the two decide to play in the driveway as Jeff sweeps away evidence of the first snow. The girls are dancing and don’t seem to mind that there is merely a light dust covering the ground.
I look back at Brooklyn. She is watching them closely, smiling and cooing and I swear wishing she could be out there with them. There is a pang in my heart, and I wonder if she knows. She can’t possibly, right? Not yet.
Please, not yet.
I am not ready for that day. The day that threatens to take her innocence, her joy. I will do my best to not let that happen, but there will be sadness. This I know. Jeff and I have often said we’d just like to freeze time, to let her be this age forever.
I decide that there is no reason she can’t feel the snow beckoning her from behind the glass. I lay her down, get her out of the stander, and let her sit and watch the girls while I try to find a snowsuit. I quickly search through bins, only to discover that it must be in one of the bins I lent to my sisters.
Defeated, I look around at the mess I’ve made and see the shoe bin. I’ve been meaning to pull it out since Brooklyn got her casts off and decide now is a good time to go through it.
I lug the blue bin over to Brooklyn and, together, we sift through the shoes and find ones that will fit over her AFO braces. Some work, some don’t. When we are finished, she is left with a pretty good shoe supply, including a pair of red shoes Kendall only wore twice. I leave them on, even though they clash with her pink outfit.
I hear the garage door open and the scuffling of boots and unzipping of snow pants. The girls are asking for a snack and the hot chocolate I promised them. I ask Brooklyn if she wants a snack, and she eagerly signs “eat” with an anxious “tst, tst, tst.”
We all head to the kitchen, and I cut up some apples and scatter Cheerios on Brooklyn’s highchair. She gathers them and stuffs them in her mouth all at once. I give her “the look,” and she just grins, knowing exactly what Mommy’s gonna say.
“One at a time, Brooklyn…”
I pour freshly made hot chocolate into mugs and top them with stale marshmallows. I warned the girls that they were stale, but they decided that stale marshmallows were better than no marshmallows at all.
I couldn’t agree more. I just hope that someday, she does too.
