My little girls are funny and fierce and smart and loving. They’re fire and snuggles and sugar and fireworks. They are the sunrise and the stardust. They are enchanting.
My little girls are magic.
They’re a special kind of magic, put together in their own individual ways. A kind of magic almost too wonderful for words. A kind of magic you feel deep in your soul. (Now, of course, my little boy is his own kind of special magic too, but that’s a story for another time.)
You can see the magic in my girls’ smiles. In their wild, tangled hair, flying around them when they run or twirl. In those golden hour moments where you wish time would freeze and capture their wildflower, woodland fairy grins and sparkling eyes in that hazy glow forever.
You can feel the magic when they hold your hand, small and soft and trusting.
Sometimes they’re tugging you along on their next adventure, always wanting to go faster, higher. But sometimes they’re just wandering slowly beside you, their eyes on the clouds, in those quiet moments that feel like peace. Where no one needs to hurry and nothing needs to get done. Where you have the room to take deep breaths and just be.
You can hear the magic in their laughs. The deep belly laughs from tickles. The giggles when they tell you a nonsense joke they made up. You can hear it in the songs they belt out at the top of their lungs from their playset (and the whole neighborhood hears it, too).
You can hear it in their prayers, so tender and pure they make your eyes fill with tears. In their little voices and toddler-made words like “cupcape” (cupcake) or “beef herder” (bird feeder) or the genius one I’ve actually adopted, “hanitizer” (hand sanitizer).
They give me magical gifts, too. Violets and dandelions from our walks. Hugs just because. Cards with crooked rainbows. Play-Doh creations and handprint ornaments. And the most magical of all, their teeny-tiny kisses.
As they grow, I’ve noticed something wonderful about their magic. They leave traces of it on everything they touch, as if they’re leaving sparkly little fairy dust behind. Sometimes this is literal (even if you try to fight it, there is always glitter somewhere), but mostly it’s invisible. It’s the careful imprints they’ve left on our hearts. It’s the way they ask for and remember everyone’s name, even if they’ve just met them once, from the bus driver on one field trip to the groundskeeper at their preschool.
It’s the way they brighten days. The way they make things fun.
I feel loved when I’m near them. I feel hopeful.
They make me want to make the world a better place. They make me want to make myself a better me.
My life is more beautiful because of my little girls. My life is fuller because of their magical presence. Yes, they are magic. Unfading, precious magic. What a joy to know and love them. What a joy it is to live life inside their magical glow.