There’s a kind of light that lives in my daughter’s eyes—bright, boundless, untamed by anything the world hasn’t yet taught her. She is in her early childhood years, that precious space where everything is magic, and wonder hides in the most ordinary corners of the day. And joy—pure, radiant joy—seems to follow her wherever she goes.
She laughs with her whole body. Not the polite kind of laugh grown-ups learn, but the wild, bubbling kind that starts in her belly and bursts out loud enough to make strangers smile. She dances when there’s no music. She makes up songs about cereal or clouds. She tells stories about dragons and flowers and how the moon might be made of cake. And every single moment with her reminds me of the beauty in simply being.
It amazes me how someone so small can teach me so much. She reminds me that happiness is not something to chase—it’s something we carry, something we can share. Her joy is a daily lesson in presence. When she splashes in puddles, when she hugs with both arms wrapped tight, when she tells me, “This is the best day ever!”—I believe her. Because to her, it really is.
Of course, there are hard days. There are tantrums and tears and times when everything feels like too much—for both of us. But even then, there is grace. Because no matter how stormy the moment, her joy never leaves for long. It waits in the wings, ready to return with a giggle, a snuggle, or a silly face that makes it all okay again.
One day, she’ll grow up. The world will get louder. The magic might be harder to find. But my deepest wish for her is this: that she never loses the joy that lives so naturally in her now. That she never forgets how to laugh with abandon, how to find beauty in small things, and how to carry light into every room she enters.
And I hope—when she’s older, and reading this someday—that she knows just how much her joy shaped mine. That being her mother has been the greatest privilege of my life. That even on the hardest days, her smile was enough to bring me home.
To my daughter: you are joy in human form. Thank you for being exactly who you are.
Love always,
Mom
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