My darling girl, you are six months old. Each day I witness your personality building & shining through more and more. I am in love. You are one strong baby, baby. Your voice is loud. I awake each morning, not to your wailing & cries, but to your lovely voice singing. You lay next to me and sing and sing, songs without words in a secret language I used to speak 27 years ago. What a beautiful voice you have. Your tiny hands have also grown strong over these months. You look at the world with a quiet contemplation, and then, when you're ready, you reach out fearlessly with curiosity and wonder. And when you grab ahold of something you like, well- oh my- is your grip tireless! And then there's the eyes: your Mama's eyes (& your Grandpa's & your Great Grandpa's before him, & so on & so on). Those bright crystal blue eyes capture the attention of every soul in the room. I know that when you are older, those shining eyes will demand the respect of everyone in the room, too. You are slowly discovering what you like, my love, and what you dislike as well. And you show us, with every cell in your body, which is which. And with all of your strength and stamina, you carry with you an equal fragility. Your facial expressions, so delicate and doll like, cannot be coaxed. You, with all of your six months, maintain a quite serious demeanor most of the time. And then, when I least expect it, you turn to me, look me in the eyes, and curl your lips into a cheeky cheshire smile. That is when my heart feels heavy. Not with sorrow, but heavy with life. I can feel our connection to one another, I can feel your innocence and your joy. When your perfect little head (which you held up from the day you were born) rests against my shoulder, I feel complete. When that feeling comes over me, I carry you to the living room, put on an old song, and dance with you. You are too small to ever remember these dances, but we have had many. Sometimes, in that moment when your smile turns to a grin, I can see, for a split second, the face of the little girl you will one day be. Sometimes, also, I can see the faces of both of your late Grandmothers there too, layered delicately within your beauty. Always, I can see the face of your Papa. You certainly got a lot of him in you. I am so proud of you, my daughter. You have been alive for six months, my little warrior, my little doll. And I love you.