I look at her little, tiny face, with the chin that comes straight from Tom's mother's family and I imagine her as a
I want to know what color her eyes will be. I want to hear the sound of her voice. I want to watch her explore and discover and find her place in this family, in this world.
But mostly, I just want it to be slow enough that I can commit each little bit and piece to memory, to be retrieved at a moment's notice, to be reexamined without the pain that so often accompanies my nostalgia.