Silence

The other day my daughter and I were sitting silently on the porch quietly enjoying each other's company. We weren't talking, we were just being and it was nice. I could sense the weight of my daughter's gaze on my face. Her gaze was more reflective than questioning, though, and I was reluctant to break our easy, silent togetherness. I let her gaze linger until I felt a shift in the quiet.

I turned to fully meet her gaze and found her intently studying my face as if she were drinking in the details. I waited until her inquisitive eyes met my own and she finally spoke. "Mom," she said, "Are you happy?" In that brief instant my mind washed over kids and marriage and opportunities and life and without even needing to reflect I said, "Yes."

I waited as I could sense there was more. The silence stretched between us and I knew she was gathering her thoughts. Finally she spoke again and said, "I thought so. I can tell because of all the tiny lines on your face. The lines are like the shadow of the creases your face gets when you smile, and you look so pretty when you smile."

She paused again and then said, "I hope I look exactly like you when I grow up."

I hope she is fulfilled enough to answer that same question without pause.

I hope she'll look exactly like me.