On her second birthday, she awoke to balloons and a baby brother.
She’s happily shared the cake ever since.
But this year, as she approached her 13th, just before Christmas, and that little brother, Levi, asked for lazer tag for the big shared day and his three brothers cheered rowdy, she did wince a bit.
And whispered in my ear if we couldn’t make cookies and find pink?
So Mama pulled out all her thrifted crystal found at Sally Ann’s all over this neck of the woods.
And my sister thought she could find matching tutus? Her bringing those five lovely daughters…
And Levi, we got him to make up the candy cane icing for all the cousins to decorate the cupcakes in. He liked the banging whir of chopping all those candy canes in the blender.
Levi may or may not have leaned over and whispered to me at the sink, “Wish I was staying to eat all this.”
He had swiped a big finger of the candy cane icing and grinned, “I could get to like this kind of pink.”
When a friend had asked if she was having a party, she had smiled and said “Yes — a perfect one with my little cousins and sister. And my Gram and aunt and mama — just family. It’s a special one this year.”
She had looked so tall and lovely, those little girls pulled up on her lap and gathered around close.
She read those five cousins and little sister the story of The Nutcracker. She’d piled Levi’s pink icing on her cupcake, and helped the little ones pile too, and she had laughed loud in the snow. She had poured the black Christmas tea.
It all seems so incredibly impossible, how the time passes, how she’s turned in this dance, turned into this woman of incredible loveliness.
Everyday becomes incredible when you let God do the impossible in you at least twice.
Their cheeks pink wonder at all this living, them out there eating their cupcakes — their laughter falling incredibly like snow.