Baby Steps

My dad sent me an e-mail that made me cry. Our home in Chicagoland was sold last night. I grew up there, but I'm exceedingly glad its no longer anyone's concern. Bittersweet. Dad got a shot of the baby prints that are still (albeit barely) on the front step.



"I stopped by this morning and took another look at the footprints. I could barely see them. I took a photo. Then I knelt down and put my hands in the smooth hollows left from Lucy’s* feet. It’s kind of funny how it was much easier to feel her footprints than to see them. While I held my hands there for a few moments many pleasant memories came to mind of my precious daughters during the years of their childhoods. The many times I saw them climb up and down the stairs, of Pookie** blowing bubbles and Lucy* letting her butterflies go."

*my family calls me Lucy
**changed from the original e-mail of course



So long, Youth.