Sometimes (every day) I look through pictures of our old life. My photos are organized by the day, so I can see what I did at any given point over the seventeen months we had her.
A year ago,
Plans for her first birthday party were in full swing.
Sometimes (every day) I let myself think about what we’d be doing if things were different.
I think she’d run through the pumpkin patch (or at least, run OUT of the pumpkin patch.)
She’d be big enough to go on a carousel.
There would be multiple costumes again (she really loved to dress up).
The invitations for her second birthday would be sent out. The party I started planning the moment her first one ended. It would have an Abby Cadabby theme (everyone would have to wear pink and purple).
And I think about the every days. About waking up together, and eating new foods, and playing on slides in the park. About her putting her hands on my belly and “kissing” her baby sister. About how we’d be gearing up for cold and flu season again, but I wouldn’t have to worry as much because she’d be two, and she’d be bigger and stronger and wouldn’t be so susceptible to colds. And the things she’d be saying, and the thoughts she might have.
And all the other intangibles and things I can’t imagine because we only got 514 days to know her.