Five

By Melissa on June 1, 2015 in Autism, Down syndrome

Five. My girl is five today.

The moment I first held her is so clear in my mind. She had the roundest, rosiest cheeks. The most perfect little rosebud mouth. Itty bitty ears. A tiny swirl of hair. She was beautiful.

And every day – every single day – she somehow becomes more beautiful. More vibrant. More…Rowenna.

She moves through the world with such confidence. She drinks up every drop of what each day brings.

She laughs every single day. She is kind every single day. She looks out for others every single day.

My heart swells to hear that Rowenna is the child who sits quietly next to a friend at school and pats their hand when they cry. She is the one who offers a hug when they are sick.

I love to watch her watch the world. And while there are days I long for her to unlock verbal communication, to tell us right out what she wants and needs and thinks about, there are days I sit back and just watch her puzzle it out in her own way. She is showing us now that she wants us in her world, and with each tug on my sleeve, each chubby finger pointing excitedly at something she sees, each eager glance in my direction, I know she is bringing us in.

She loves music and movement. She loves animals. She loves the garden. She can be rough and tumble but then turn around and give Afton’s head a gentle rub, her sisterly way of showing love.

What did I do in this life, or some past life, to get to raise this soul? This soul that shimmers and shines and radiates such joy you can’t help but smile when you’re with her.

This unexpected journey, this incredible life. The people I don’t just count as friends, but as family. The adventures we’ve had, the steep learning curve.