When I was pregnant, I remember thinking about the perfect Summers we'd have. Summers spent day after day at park playgrounds on quilted blankets with books and snacks, our toes tickled by single blades of bright green grass as we huddle beneath the beauty of a single merciful shade tree. I'd picture the fun we'd have with bubbles and big pieces of sidewalk chalk, the way your flawless and exposed skin would become warm and pink from the bright bright sun. I'd dream about the wonderful whimsical patterns you'd wear, the bright vibrant colors intertwined, rhythmically creating bliss on your sweet little sun dresses, shorts, and tees.
I'd imagine our walks to nearby parks, your little legs taking the tiny yet significant steps, each time a little less wobbly, a little stronger, a little more confident. And in my mind I'd see this fictitious world through a warm yellow filter, mimicking the sun's light at high heat, illuminating your little body with a beautiful golden hue.
Two years into this wonderful life I'm privileged to be a part of, those dreams of perfect Utopian Summers are becoming my reality. Each day, I'm overjoyed. Elated at the fact that this here, very present life mirrors the life I thought we'd live.
Lola, like any other child, is passionate about bubbles. And just like my dreams, we watch these perfect clear but iridescent spheres be seduced and swept away in a romantic love affair with an early evening breeze.
And just like all children, she is anxious for an unassisted turn. She thrusts the wand up and down in the bottle the way we mamas do when trying to get the last of the mascara from the tubes we can't seem to discard. Pulling the wand from its bubbly abode, soapy suds spilling down her legs, she brings it close, exaggeratedly puckering her lips for the first blow. Bubbly bliss.
And when she's worn out and in need of a break, she flocks to me for a sweet Summer treat. She indulges in each perfect piece, red and juicy from months of growing under a ripe Summer sun, leaving my little girl a happy one.
We are glad to watch you grow, sweet girl, happy you are ours. You bring us joy each day, a greater understanding of who we are and how we should love. You've taught us to be patient and to bask in the sweet moments of our Utopian life.