The Edge of the Hope Chest

I was in the bathroom today with Gabriela and Chata, though I don’t really remember what we were doing. For those of you who have seen it, you are probably wondering how all of us fit in there, but we seem to do it on a regular basis, seeing as though I can never enter the 2 foot by 2 foot space on my own. (Hello children, good bye privacy, forever!!!) I think I was watching Gabriela go through the bins on the shelf, exploring all the trinkets and do dads for her to destroy so I have yet another thing to clean and I was watching Chata watch her, probably in the hopes of a dropping of some sort of food morsel, I’m sure. As Gabriela exited the bathroom, Chata close behind, she paused at the hope chest at the end of the bed and I got a little sad, yet a little proud and I grinned. She rested her hand on top of the wooden chest that I had built myself many years ago and turned to smile. It wasn’t that long ago that I was afraid for her to walk out of the bathroom unassisted as the corner of the hope chest had been just at her eye level and I was so certain she was going to poke it out, wobbling unsteadily as she did. But today, she stood proud, the corner only at her chest and I realized how big she has gotten. I know I am home with her everyday and I see her everyday, almost every second. I even look at her while she is asleep and yet today, I wondered, how is this happening SO fast? This little girl whose feet, when we got here, couldn’t even touch the ground when she was in her bouncer (we stuffed three towels underneath!). Now she can pick it up and carry it across the apartment. Oh where does the time go? I feel like tomorrow the corner will be at her knee…. And then what?