Before I start, I just want to apologize. I can't capture it. I'll try, but it will be a poor imitation of the situation.
Mommy is about to leave. She's decided that Mommy will go, and Daddy will stay. The curtains are pulled shut and it is night time. Books were just read; a story is about to be told, but first, Mommy is going to go.
Mommy is always given a big squeeze and a kiss before going. Tahlia likes to draw out this time in the evening when she has both of us to herself, a commodity that is rare in these days of having a little brother. She finds other things to do rather than give Mommy the riches that she so desires. Tahlia reads books, wanders around her room, sometimes does crazy dancing. She is coaxed, finally, by Daddy who tells Tahlia to tell Mommy a secret.
I pull her close, and whisper in her ear, "Tell Mommy, 'I love you Mommy.'"
Whispering is new to her. Often times a whisper sounds a great deal like her regular voice. We are expecting as much this time.
But we're wrong.
She carefully walks to Mommy and begins pushing the hair on Mommy's head away from her ear. Soon, she has found her prize. She leans close. We wait to hear the loudly stated, "I dove you Mommy."
It doesn't come. Instead, something below the register of normal human sound is uttered. It has the rhythm of something we've heard before, "I love you Mommy."
But once is not enough. She carefully takes Mommy's face in her small hands and begins angling Mommy's head into a position that only she clearly understands. It is a slow process; if it was not done with such obvious love, one might inappropriately describe it as tedious. But soon, Tahlia's small pink lips are inches from Mommy's nose as her delicate hands carefully cradle Mommy's head, and her gaze is strong into Mommy's eyes. You can barely hear the sounds, but her eyes convey the entire message even to me who sits across the room, "I dove you Mommy."
Again, "I dove you Mommy."
She turns to me with unbelievable joy radiating from her face. Then turns to grasp Mommy's head again for another torrent of loving whispers that she rain from her lips.
"I dove you Mommy."
But, in these poor words, I've failed to capture just how precious and ethereal this moment shall always be.
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