Fingerprints

Every time I walk into my office/playroom in the morning, the sun shines through the front window. A year and a half ago I would have died if my window looked like this. I got so much pleasure from seeing the crystal-clear windows and the bright late-summer morning.

But Lil likes to stand in this window and watch the buses pick up the kids in the morning. And now, since I'm cleaning the house for guests, I just can't get the courage to clean these prints off the window.

Her tiny hands, saved for however long I decide to not clean the window, all at a height I'll miss soon, are plastered along. They stand for a time when Lil is so excited, moving from window to window to watch the cars and buses go by. They stand for a time when I watch, sometimes with tears in my eyes thinking about how she sat in this window 1 year ago, when she was only 2 months old, doing the same thing. They stand for the first time I realized she could stand on her own when she had something to lean on.

Most of all, they stand for the little hands that reach up for me when I'm exasperated, busy, and feel like I might not have time to pick her up or hold her hand. But I do. And I love it. Because, sadly, I know it won't last forever.