She Smiles

Resting in the arms of her father, her hands making patterns which make sense to her alone, she smiles.

Noticing her mother's return, she turns her head and smiles.

Sneezing, surprising herself, she smiles.

Staring intently into my daughter's face, a face which is inches from her own, a face with a tongue sticking out and then drawing back in, she smiles.

Bouncing on the therapy ball, in anyone's arms, she smiles.

With a dry diaper and a full tummy, lying on her back and waving her feet, she smiles.

Her grandmother smiles all the time.

In fact, she is so busy smiling that she has no time left to type to you.

Instead, I'll give you a photo so that you can smile, too.