You are 7 big years old today and yesterday you gave me your last hug as a 6 year old. Last Art Girl hug. I try to think of words to describe you, but you aren’t words. You are colours and noises and jumping around at the dinner table. You are sketches of bunnies, and kitties, and rainbows in the sky. You sleep sideways underneath 10 different stuffed animals.
If a feeling is worth feeling, it’s worth feeling with every fibre and sinew of your being, you say. You show love by picking someone up and carting them around if you can, running down the Kindergarten hallway with your baby sister only a few weeks old in your arms, me chasing after you trying to wrest her away. Or by grabbing your big sister and hoisting her 4 inches into the air. If you can’t do it with your body, you do it with your heart, by making them love cards and giving them your last cookie, and telling them they are the best Mommy in the whole world.
You truly love beauty, and seek it always and everywhere. In your piano music, in your sketches of God’s earth, in a flower petal that you found abandoned in the dirt of the garden. You coddle and protect it, and try to preserve it. But a most beautiful thing Art Girl, is your own sweet heart that loves so much and so deeply, and feels so much and so greatly.
Happy Birthday, Art Girl. You rock.