I should've named you cinnamon. For the subtle tang you bring to every situation.
Feather. For the soft, wispy way your eyelashes brush my arm when you're snuggled in close on movie night.
Rooster. For the early mornings you refuse to let pass silently.
Ocean. For the dark pools of your eyes that see for miles.
Fire. For the way you engulf a room with your incomparable vigor.
Anchor. For your singular way of tying me to the world you completed....and also for the weight you add to my lap when I have a million things to do but your hair in my face keeps me still.
Sigh. For the only response I can muster to some of your more...colorful...shenanigans.
Finale. For the fact that nothing is really finished until you've applied the bow.
Proud. For the wrecking ball of esteem you carry over your shoulder.
Love. For the heart you have and the warmth you emanate.
But, no, I named you Maya. For the inspiration, strength, and possibilities the name signifies for me.
I couldn't have known seven years ago just how many ways you would define all that is sweet and genuine and ornery in our family. My Maya, you could have been named so many things - but the title of daughter remains my favorite.
Happy birthday baby girl,
Always,
Mama
Sarah-
ReplyDeleteHang up your other job and become a writer! You have it in you! It's all right here, the only portfolio you'll ever need. You are brilliantly articulate and concise in a way that I really struggle to be. I've cried through three of your posts because we're singing in unison. To feel allied and accepted is a great gift that you've given me! Thank You!!!