Bliss

Pulling into the garage after work this afternoon, I noticed the kitchen door had already been opened.  This is not uncommon; The Hubbs often meets me at the door if he hears the garage door go up.  I've gotten used to it.  I'm spoiled - I know - and I love every moment of it.

But today was a bit different.  The kitchen door was open, yes, but it was not The Hubbs I first saw.  The Princess stood there in her neon green Fish & Fiddle tee shirt, doing an admirable job of elbowing our two one-hundred-pound (each!) bulldogs out of the way.  She was fighting - I mean really fighting for prime position.  When I got out of the car, she started jumping up and down excitedly, the biggest grin in the history of grins plastered across her beautiful face.

I opened the screen door, and she shot into my arms.  She smiled and babbled happily, holding me as close as she could.  It was one of those moments that brings tears to my eyes...the ones where she shows me that - social difficulties be damned - she just wants to hug her momma.  After a few minutes, I reluctantly peeled her arms from around my neck and looked her in the eye.  She held that eye contact and grinned from ear to ear.

Since I didn't have school tonight (teacher had a scheduling conflict), the fam headed out to run a few errands and enjoy the beautiful weather.  All along the way, The Princess insisted upon touching me as much as humanly possible.  She giggled out of nowhere, and looked up at me with glee.  The grin of all grins remained, smack in the middle of her face, for hours.  I'm not kidding.  Hours.

We got home, and she didn't want to be anywhere but with me.  We snuggled.  We played.  We sang.  We rocked.  We tickled.  We laughed.

We exhaled.

The last few days have had me wound as tight as a spring; this I knew.  What I didn't realize until this afternoon was that The Princess was in the same boat.  It's so sad if you think about it like that.

But...well, it makes me happy.  I'm happy that she wants to spend time with me.  I'm happy that she notices the fact that I'm gone.  I'm happy that she is able to express herself, stunted as it may be.

A year ago, she couldn't have done any of this.  She'd have sat in the middle of the room and either withdrawn into herself or just cried.

Progress is a beautiful thing.  Two steps forward, one step back, as they say...but you'll never appreciate the highs if you don't experience the lows.

Today?  Bliss.  Pure bliss.