Last night, Mr. O and I were reading our books. Baby O was kicking away (always Thumper in the evening) at both of us, and Mr. O remarked that the kicking makes it feel as if we’re spending time with Baby O already. And that got us thinking about all the little things we’re looking forward to doing with Baby O.
Which, of course, made me think of all the fun I had when my smallest sister C was even smaller. Sure, there were adorable outfits and antics, and even more adorable pronunciations. But what came to mind yesterday was a perfect twenty minutes we spent together two winters ago.
January rain had melted the snow, and on a grey afternoon, C and I went for a walk to put some letters in a neighborhood mailbox. Along the way, we stopped to look at small things — a bird peeping out of some evergreens, a few yellow leaves clinging to a bush, cracks in the sidewalk. A three-minute walk turned into ten, and on our way back, the sun came out, and C skipped along home. Her feet never seemed to leave the ground, and I have the picture to prove it:
It was a perfect walk.
When I was telling Mr. O about it, I remembered something else, too: when we got home, C wanted a turn with the camera, so she started clicking away. And one of those pictures was the first one that Mr. O ever saw of me (yes, we met on the interwebs). Really — a perfect day.