I found myself teary this morning. I went in Emma's room to ask her a question. The was she was sleeping, I didn't see a 14 year old girl. I saw the little four year old Emma. I remember how her face used to light up when she'd see me, and she'd exclaim "Mommy!" and throw her arms around my neck, hugging me as tight as she could. I miss that time, when she loved me openly and purely, and didn't care who saw. I was her biggest confidant and first friend. Now she hardly tells me a thing, shares all her secrets with her friends, and doesn't often give hugs.
I know this is normal, and natural, and how it should be. I am proud of the young woman she is becoming, but I still mourn the little girl who was left behind.
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