Little Girl


She is four years old and utterly, heartbreakingly lovely. With beautiful, shoulder-length, curly, auburn hair and a sweet, round little head that closely mirrors that of her Mom and her Grandma, she always makes me want to gather her up and hold her forever. It has been so very long since I held my own little ones and sometimes, my arms – and my heart – ache with the recollection of my own babies’ sleepy, heavy warmth. Being four years old, she is very ‘busy’ and doesn’t much like being held so I never do that awful grown-up thing of ‘making’ her give me a hug. I do, however, gladly welcome her into my lap when she chooses to pay a visit, usually only for a brief snuggle before she is on her way again, too occupied doing four-year-old things to stay anywhere for long.

I have known her, her Mom and her grandparents for about two years now. She is extremely shy so it has taken all this time for her to willingly come to me; to truly be comfortable with me.

The other day, I came to our weekly potluck feeling discouraged and downcast. It had not been a good day: in fact, it had been a really awful day. I did not want to be there: it was one of those times when you put on a brave face and hope that you won’t actually have to talk to anyone for fear that your hurts will come tumbling out all over the room. I was concentrating on just getting through it so that I could go home and let my guard down, in private.

I had barely walked through the door when she solemnly came over to me. I knelt down and gave her a soft kiss on the top of that lovely little head. To my surprise, her arms wrapped tightly around me.

And held on and on…

Enfolding her as I used to hold my own precious children, we both continued to hug as I stood and gathered her in, silently rocking her back and forth for a long and tender moment, eyes closed. Her baby sister – whom I also love dearly – came toddling over so I squatted down and the three of us snuggled there for a few more moments before the spell was broken and they both wandered off, already busy looking for something else to do.

Today is a better day. And I am still carrying around the warmth of those sweet, gentle little arms.

Sometimes all you need is a hug.

Sometimes, no words are necessary…

Source of photo: me, hugging my own little girl a great many years ago…

Patti Moore Wilson ©


Author: Patti Moore Wilson, wednesdayschild2

I write what I feel. And I rarely know exactly what I feel until I write. I have lived long enough to have known many joys and many sorrows. I have made many mistakes; I have forgiven myself for a few… I have learned that there are lessons in every step of this journey, if we only take the time to pay attention… I hope you will feel free to pick and choose the stories that resonate for you…

6 thoughts on “Little Girl”

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