Tiny Fingers

By , Aurora, CO
About a year and a half ago something big happened. Something so big it could only come in the smallest of packages; a baby. A lovely little girl by the name of Raelynn Honey Knox was born. Perfectly shaped to be held safely in my and my grandmother’s arms, this needy little bundle of life was soon to touch parts of my heart that had otherwise been unexplored.

It’s fair to say that I was no lover of youth. The smells, the shrieks, whining, and remarkable attraction to all things sticky, I steered clear of any responsibility of little ones. I must say that I was a bit naïve to the beauty in youth, and the idea of a new baby living with us annoyed me. I decided it was in my best interest to steer clear as much as possible.

At first, during her infancy, all she really did was snooze soundly rocking in her little swing. All day she’d lay there either drinking a bottle or sleeping. I figured I could at least sit with her, while she was awake, so she wouldn’t feel alone. Her little limbs and phalanges I found delicate and adorable. I would find myself sitting beside her, all five of her fingers wrapped around my one. It was peaceful, and after she’d fallen asleep I’d take her bottle and my finger and go about my day.

See kids, well babies especially, they’re natural born tricksters. They find a way to melt your heart and before you know it you’re in love; no words, and yet your bonded unconditionally.

Over time Raelynn discovered her fingers, her toes, and eventually the outside world. Crawling at 4 months and walking at 8, she had quickly started her mission to taste and touch all.
I sit here, almost 2 years later amazed at how with her physical strides and accomplishments, my emotional endurance has grown at almost the same rate. I see in her big black eyes a taste for life. The innocence spoken of so often by the greats before me, I finally understand, and see in this little girl. There is this beauty beyond any material or superficial level that fills my heart with such immense amounts of love that it’s hard to remember how I loved before.

I now see that my resistance was natural, and the slow melting of my heart were just the steps to lessons learned. I now watch as she climbs up stairs, reaches on top of counters, drinks from her straws, and brushes her hair. I see these tiny little actions and know that I am in them. I hear her utter many new words and know my part in her developing life is a positive one.





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