My Little Girl

With thoughtful eyes she watches me put on my makeup. She likes to watch me do this, for some reason. Every once in a while I pass her something, a lipstick, the blusher, and allow her to put some on herself. I notice that she is remarkably accomplished at putting it on. I hand her my perfume. She upturns it, then pulls the top off carefully, and dabs the contents on her neck.

She helps me pin my hair up. She smiles. I walk to my closet, and she follows, trailing her blanket and stuffed cat behind her. I select something black. She suggests the floral red skirt that I bought but have rarely worn. I smile. But we go with the black skirt with cream lilies.

She tells me that I look beautiful and I tend to agree with her. Grandma arrives and off she goes, showing her grandmother all of her earthly treasures, piled under her bed.

My little girl. My last baby. So little, but growing up so quickly. Slow down, sweet child. What’s your hurry?