Babies cry, but only for so long.
I sat later in the living room. My four year old talked quickly in her tiny, musical voice, chirping like a bird about the world around her. She was my passionate child, my emotional child, my sensitive child. I thought about her fears that I had forgotten her, and we talked about it some more. I reassured her, she smiled, and the laughter that came from her almost made the memory of tears disappear. She danced across the room. She seemed to dance everywhere she went rather than walking. As she twirled into the kitchen I knew this season would end too.
Babies cry, but only for so long. Then they grow up.
The irrational tears lessen, but so does all the rest. The chubby arms of sleeping babies with tiny, upturned noses take on a different shape. The pirouettes across the living room rug slow down. The musical voices change, the laughter isn’t quite the same. Each season holds its challenges, but also its unique blessings. Tears don’t last forever, but then again, neither do little girls.
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This article originally appeared at BrieGowen.com.
