When my nephews were small, after they’d gone home, I had handprints on my slider to remember them by. Now they’re six and eight, and …I’d like to say that there are fewer handprints. There are different handprints. The Godniece just turned two, though, and now I have new fingerprints on the cabinets, on the fridge, on the glass doors… Also, I have blurs to remember her by in all of her photographs. The kid never stands still! She’s either dancing or jumping or twirling or running and – whoosh, there she goes!
I’m grateful for those fingerprints, though. I’m freaking exhausted, but I’m grateful as I clean each one away, that a very small (and wildly energetic) person came to visit today.
(I’m also grateful that she doesn’t live here… in the most loving way possible. Does this make me an awful person? No, just a tired one… I am grateful that the word “visit” means “temporary gift, eventually returned.” Whew.)