As I watch my daughter dress her new daughter, I reminisce. As she so delicately guides her newborn's arm into a bitty shirt sleeve, my mind's eye sees a bit of me..in her. I would gently help my 95 year old mother's wrinkled arm into her pajama sleeve just a few weeks ago.
I watch as a new mother talks gently to her baby and cuddles her. She carefully glides her fingers over the new silk hair. She looks at her tiny fingers and toes...knowing every inch of her body as she nestles in slumber.
I help feed my mother...minimal times. But, I know she's tired and sometimes I need to encourage her to eat....just like a child...gently, coaxing, lovingly prodding.
Mom's hair needs to be gently brushed from the "le pillow" look. Her hair is as white as a cloud. Soft as a newborn's...but, more unruly.
Mom needs help with getting her shoes on...like little Jaiden. Mom can't quite reach her toes, and Jaiden hasn't discovered her own yet. However, they both have very fashionable accessories.
One soul, a new journey. One soul, a new journey to come.
How I love them both.