A Lucky Number Seven

Every year, in the few days leading up to my daughter's birthday, she wakes up in the dark morning, just a few moments before her birth time, and calls to me.  I don't know why, or what triggers her to do this, but each year for seven years she's done it.  I wake up, go into her room, and lay down with her. 

I remember all of the little details about her labor and birth. 

I whisper to her about how hot it was that summer and how, on the day that I went into labor, the air suddenly cooled and the light shifted so that it felt like fall. 

I tell her about how, six days after she was born, the geese flew over our house, honking wildly towards the south. 

I remember that after Bronwyn was born, I had intense and vivid dreams about birds talking to her, and to me.

I think about how much my life has been enriched by Bronwyn's presence in my life, and how sometimes love can hurt so much, and that's okay too.

Happy Birthday, my sweet and lovely girl.  I love you and wish you many more quiet and magical mornings to come.

**UPDATE**  I've uploaded photos of Bronwyn's party on my Flickr page here.