Tuesday, February 9, 2016

My Heart Can't Even Believe It

I hope Amy doesn't mind me swiping her cover photo now that she's hit the BIG time with her new book. An amazing writer (and teacher. And friend.) with one of the best, sweetest, most intuitive kids, ever. 

I stood alone in the Phoenix airport on a hot June night, giggling, having just discovered the going away gift my barely 10-year-old daughter Sophie left on my phone, in the form of 39 self-portraits and a two-minute video.  
The photos are all close-ups of her face – slightly crooked bangs, more-than-slightly-crooked teeth, smiling, frowning, goofy-with-her-tongue-out. In the video, Sophie alternately sings one of her favorite songs, “Gangnam Style” and begs me to take her along on this work trip to New York City, but mostly she talks about how much she loves me. This is a familiar refrain, and one that for me never gets old. Not yet, at least. 
"You are the best mom I ever had,” she tells me. On homemade cards, in handwriting only I can read, she writes, “I love you because I love you because I love you.” 
And this time, on the tiny iPhone screen: “I love you so much my heart can’t even believe it."

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