A Glance

Carrying laundry, rushing too and fro, I walked past my stairs and from the corner of my eye I caught the glimpse.  I froze and stared.

Perfectly chubby yet somehow impossibly long toddler legs dangled off a stair.  Round belly, sweet fingers wrapped around a toy, eyes the color of dark chocolate, wispy brown hair framing her face.  She giggled as I passed, then paused with a "Mom?" when she realized I was staring.

Miss Tiny is Thirteen months. 

The same age SHE was when she left.  I feel it in my bones.  The grief that seeps into my soul.  The ache that is never quite abated.

Two do not replace the one.  I love the two fully and completely, but one is still absent.  Most days now I feel the joy of the memories and the appreciate of the gift of time together but in that moment, in that glimpse I remember what I lost.  Who I lost. 

The enormity and depth of the space in our family that was once her. 

It's the familiar weight of two legs wrapped around my hip as I fill a bottle.  The snuggle into my shoulder when a sleepy baby wants to rest. A fist that still can be completely wrapped in my grasp.  The perfect acceptance in the eyes of a baby who loves you most. 

Thirteen months. 

I don't know if I want to wish the reminders away or wish them to stay.