With all the baby girls that have been arriving around here both at church and at school, I woke up with a deep desire to see this little girl again. Praise God for video cameras and parents who transfer the hundreds of segments of tape onto DVDs. I sat myself down with a box of tissues and a disc entitled 1999 and listened to my beautiful baby with her funny little English accent telling me about her sore back and opening Easter eggs and birthday presents.
When the 17 year old version emerged from her lair at 9am with long, tousled hair and sleep laden eyes, she plonked herself down on top of me like she used to do, and I slowly lost feeling in my legs.
Even Himself observed how weird it was to see her there, like that, and here, like this, at the same time.