A brief moment of serenity.

She was watching a movie.




Cars 3, her one before I switched to grown up shows for the afternoon. I Happened to look over, checking on her in her glazed silence.

She stood between the handmade hexagon table and the tatty recliner her father favors. Her face was glued to the screen, enraptured by the cars as they whizzed by in a great track in some big race. I watched her, realizing the rosy, orange light of late afternoon autumn sunshine that filtered through the kitchen window had caught her face, illuminating her a moment.

All you could hear was the muted sounds of the movie. All I could see was this tiny face caught in the sunlight, made all the more lovely by the light. Her dirty face, lips slightly parted. Her eyes so focused. One grubby hand reached up to move her hair from her eyes as she stood there, by the cold fireplace. For a moment, there was nothing else. I didn't move to take a picture or a video. She'd move away, or realize my actions and come rushing up to take a picture. Instead I savored the moment. Memorizing it. All too soon she'd be seven like her big sister, these moments changed for electronics and laptops.

Then she moved, gabbling at me about Lightning McQueen. Rushing up to twist her fingers in to my clothes, and bury her face into my coat, her arms around my middle. I lovingly placed my arms around her, bowing my head to smell her twisted hair, inhaling that sweet scent small children have, even unwashed little hellions that wear the same, tired halloween dress, stained and ripped from many days of wear.

I love my babe. I hope she knows that.