Sometimes when you’re in the shower shampooing your hair you smell a familiar scent. It reminds you of a little girl’s wet hair under your nose wrapped in a towel and giggling with glee. She was perfectly capable of getting ready for bed on her own, but she wanted Mama.
I had no intention giving up any of those precious moments of bonding, exhausted or not.
The scent reminded me of those adorable freckles on her nose and the way she could amaze me with her endless silliness and creativity. She had her own world and we often got to be a part of it.
It reminded me of the moments where my hand became an uncontrollable monster tickling her on the floor until she was out of breath; begging for me to stop and hoping I never would.
It reminds me of those moments when she initiated a kiss good night. When she said “I love you Mama too.” Using the word too incorrectly.
It reminds me of those hugs when she squeezed me with all of her strength because that is how much she loves.
I never got tired of holding her even though my back ached and her shoulder strangled my neck.
I savored the early morning cuddles on the couch while she was still sleepy and just wanted to be held.
I miss the moments when I felt perfectly at peace just being her Mama; happily waiting for her sister to descend the stairs so we could start our day.
Sometimes when you’re in the shower washing your hair, you miss that little girl. You hope and pray that somewhere on the other side of the world she is missing you.
We pray that she is safe, not fearful of the dark, warm and well fed. We know much of this is not realistic in her world and our hearts ache for what we wish we could give.
And we can do little but pray that God will be generous and allow us to bring her home so I can shampoo her hair again.