Being Three

Her dress was a garden of pink and flowers. Her golden locks were tied up in pretty bows. Her shoes were laced with ribbons that matched the flowers and the bows.

She danced on her toes. She giggled with her eyes. She loved to sing out loud.

Round and round - she twirled. Arms outstretched..extending up and into the sky. Head thrown back to catch the wind.

'Pretty me...pretty me' - I heard her shouting. 'Pretty me.'

She was so brave..so confident..so sure..so on-top-of-the world.

As I watched - I hoped..I wished..I prayed - she'd always be. That girl. That one in the pretty pink. That one that believed in her power..in her beauty..in her strength. In who she was..when she was only three.