Today was the first truly beautiful spring day that I could spend with you at your resting place. And what better day than your 8 month milestone.
So I grabbed a blanket, a book, and here I am, writing another love letter to you. I usually write from your room. But I feel just as close to you here. When the birds sing and the wind picks up, I like to think it's you saying hello. Saying I love you. And I like to think you can hear me saying those things too.
I know you heard me reading. I read to you, (and baby), the book "On the Night You Were Born." Sometimes it feels like it was written specifically from me to you, and then from you to me. When it describes the beauty in the night you were born. And then when it talks about all of the ways nature tries to make us smile. That's you. The morning moon. The lingering ladybugs. The bird at the window.
You, my baby, are one of a kind. No matter what the past 8 months have brought, and no matter what the next 8 have in store, there will never be anyone quite like you in the world.
Love you, always.