Hello, You.

Dear Viola,

You turned six months old last week. We didn't do much to mark the occasion, Zuzu danced for you and I added a little extra rice cereal to your bottle. You seemed appreciative of both gestures.

Little Honey, you are more perfectly you than you have ever been. Convoluted sentence structure aside, I really think this is worth celebrating. Something has fallen away and you are more than my baby, you are my daughter. And then late at night, when you breathe into my neck and I can't imagine letting you go, something reminds me that you are so much for than just my daughter. Viola Honey, you are something so wonderful and bright and completely apart from me. You were sent here with nearly everything you will need in this life. A willing soul and a happy spirit. Sometimes I see you looking at me and for just a moment, your eyes are the eyes of the woman you will become. And, my darling girl, she is lovely. I can wait to meet that young lady. Life with you in this moment is so joyful. My girl, you are a delighted ball of life. I walk into the room and you smile. Daddy sings to you and you smile. Margaret makes faces at you and you collapse into giggles and squeals and gurgles. It fills and breaks my heart all at the same beautiful time.

This new you-ness has been accompanied by curiosity and movement. It must be intoxicating to realize the world is bigger than your mothers arms. I have seen this revelation fill you and breathed in deeply as you have tried to move toward the new and the interesting. It is the beginning of everything, this knowledge that there is more and the desire to reach out and touch it. There is pride as I watch you work to move away from me. And there is happiness and sweet relief that I get to hold you in my arms just a little bit longer.

I love you, Viola Honey.