Child of My Heart

She is coming.

This week-end.

There are two young ladies in my life who are like my own children.

Child(ren) of my heart, but not of my womb. Although I don't really think the womb makes that much difference. They are still mine. I will share. Read on.

The oldest, she is so much like her father, both in appearance and oh so under the radar snarky humor. She is quietly, charmingly witty And beautiful, classic, very old world beauty. She looks like a Dutch master painting. And when she feels comfortable with you, the full measure of her intelligence and her charm astound you.

The youngest, she is an artist. A dreamer. A writer. She is also a beauty.... like her mother. And if her beauty was only at the surface, it would merely stop you in your tracks. But it is what lies beneath that takes your breath away.

These two are going to make the world a better place. They are the daughters I did not have.

I always knew I wanted children. Even at the age of 12, I knew I wanted to be a mom. And I always, always wanted boys. And I got my heart's desire with BamBam and Thumper.

But before that, I was given what I needed.

Girls.

These girls? These children of my heart?

They were given to me by their mother, my dear friend of 20 years.

They arrived on the scene years before my raucous posse of boy-men invaded my realm.

I was there, waiting for them to come home, when they were born.

I held their tiny newborn heads in my hands and marvelled at the elegant length of their fingers and their rosy red lips and the sheer perfection of their newborn skin.

With the youngest, DH and other friends made a mad dash to finish up her nursery 24 hours before she was due home.

We called it "Operation Laying the Floors while They're at the Doors"

We've had a lot of fun with that one through the years. Especially since her daddy is a minister at a growing Presbyterian church and her mom is in her last year of seminary. These two, this couple, are and will always be a rockin team. Two for one never had so much meaning.

But I digress, back to "my" girls.

I held their fingers as they toddled. I swayed and rocked with them when they were fretful and their parents were tired. I played endless make believe games and cuddled with them in the pews of church while they drew me works of art that still hang in my office.

My long hair has been styled more ways than J-Lo's.

I have watched their fingers dance across a piano and their bodies skip across a stage.

I've listened to their voices soar in children's choir. And I still try to listen, really listen as they share with me, their fears and dreams.

It is such an awesome responsibility and privilege to share this journey with them. These children of my heart.

And now my "baby" girl is coming for the week-end, from a distance of only 1.5 hours away. Because she needs to be reminded that she is still special and unique and precious, despite being supplanted as the "baby", by a BOY, no less!!!!

So we shall go and get a pedicure, and have tea, window shop, make art and just be girls.

And we will also...............

talk about the day she came home from the hospital
and the day she first sang in the choir
and the art that still hangs in my office
and the place she has in my life.

And I'm sure someone's hair is not going to look like it did on Friday!

And she will always, and forever be....a child of my heart.