I was that girl

While waiting for my eldest to get out of school, I saw a girl, no older than nine, walking with her nose in a Beverly Clearly book.  She was so focused on her book she tripped twice, and was hit square in the face by a stray snowball from the group of boys having a snowball fight beside her.  She adjusted her glasses, wiped the wet remnants from her cheek, and kept reading.  But for her wispy blond hair and petite frame, I would have sworn I had gone back in time and was spying on my former self. 
It's going to turn out fine, sweetheart.
Just fine.

Maya Angelou

Love and Light,


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