...doesn't enjoy the spotlight. She doesn't like to draw attention to herself. In a world of selfies and oversharing, I treasure that about her.
The most important person in her life has always been her Daddy. They are peas in a pod, my Frick-and-Frack. One of the most joyous sounds I've ever known is their harmonious laughter. They look alike and they think alike.
Not far behind her Daddy is mine. He is the only grandfather she remembers and she adores him wholeheartedly.
She has a remarkable, understated wit. She doesn't try to be funny. She just is.
Her deep blue eyes - the only trait I could claim as mine - are morphing into a stunning green. No matter their color, I have loved seeing the world through them: big, exciting, full of possibilities and challenges.
She volunteers with the elderly, but her heart is with children. She wants to devote her life to making them well. The Lord has gifted her with a depth of compassion and mercy that I often envy and always admire.
She is opinionated and stubborn. She doesn't back down quickly or quietly. I appreciate these qualities. But not always.
She is intelligent, determined, and fun. She's a procrastinator and a perfectionist (unfortunately, other traits I can claim as mine). She is a protector and she loves big.
I gave birth to her, but she has given me a life I never thought possible. She has made my days more beautiful, more difficult, and more meaningful than I could have ever imagined.
Her days of living in our home full-time are quickly - too quickly - coming to an end.
If only I hadn't blinked.