Little Girls

One daughter falls asleep each night with a book in her hands, quietly observing life from the edge.

While the other prefers to explore the world first hand without question or fear of consequence or boundaries.

Wildly different, yet equally beautiful.

I often wonder which will have the most fulfilling life.

Most likely, both.

 One runs and sings and laughs without care. She is the devil on your shoulder. She has no inhibitions. She once said, “Mommy, I don’t think I have a conscience.”  And of course I laughed. She simply sparkles and delights.

The other is quiet and submissive. She is thoughtful and calm. Until she is not. She can be the butterfly that lands on your hand. And in the next moment, a quiet storm.

And from all outward appearances, they would seem to be the same. They both have soft brown hair, perfect smiles and eyes filled with wonder.

But one giggles shyly when she laughs, while the other lights up like a hundred fireworks.

A man I once loved told me “Your girls are everything that you are.”

I can’t imagine a more beautiful thing to say to a mother. Because even on my worst days, when I don’t like myself very much, I still look at them in amazement.

Because they will both always be my two favorite people.

My heart.

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