I have a general sense that Ava’s getting used to having Emmett around. A small poster, created by her, appeared on her easel the other day that reads “I LOVE EMMETT.” She’s also having an easier time going places without us, such as school, which makes things easier.
Meanwhile, I continue to feel her childhood slipping past me. And, by extension, her slipping past me. Maybe it’s just that G.G. has been in town the last couple days, and I’ve tried to give her some alone time with the girl. Maybe I should resign myself to the fact that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Yesterday, I got home on my bike just before a strong storm rolled into town. I had Ava come outside with me, and we stood on the sidewalk across the street to watch the weather approach. She wrapped her arms around my leg as I pointed out the roiling gray and white clouds tumbling towards us. When the wind finally hit, Ava let me go and danced among the dust and leaves skittering by on the pavement, her hair tousled as she jumped and twirled.
I cherish these moments alone with her; I know she’s using them to form her impression of the person her dad is, and I try to make them seem important beyond the fun that they are. But she doesn’t understand the kind of importance I’m trying to convey. At least not intellectually. And I suppose it’s probably best she doesn’t, yet. Plenty of time later for the preoccupations and worries of the adult world. It’s enough for now that she loves dancing on the sidewalk with the storm-blown wind in her hair.