I know I’ll blink and you’ll both be too big to sit on my lap.
I know I’ll blink again and you’ll be far too embarrassed to even try.
I know I’ll look away then suddenly notice you’re not little babies anymore.
I know I should probably admit that you already fit that category anyway.
I admit that I don’t stop enough and enjoy the moment with you the way I used to with your older sister.
I can come up with excuses but I won’t.
I know that daily, I feel this burst of love that comes from seeing both of you.
I know that I’d never do anything different ever because I wouldn’t want to miss out meeting either of you.
As different as the sun and the moon, as opposite as night and day, as beautiful as Saturn and Venus, as necessary as my left and my right hands.
I know God gave me both of you. Just to remind me He could. Just to show me how love can multiply.
I’ve felt the burden, and the wear and the tear, and the heaviness, and insane anxiety, and the blistering blustering baffled soul inside trying to figure out what to do now. But then I see your smiles and hear your laughs and follow your little footsteps. My weary heart is blessed. My weary soul is full.
The sun and the moon and the stars, that’s what you three girls are.
My words are never enough, like my energy, like my wisdom. I’m simply taking it a day at a time.
Each day, you change me. Even as you change.
I don’t have enough love. But I’m trying. You remind me that it’s okay. You remind me that you have enough, and that you always will.
Labels: Fatherhood, Parenthood, The Girls