Feet Touching the Floor

After a morning of green pancakes and buttoning green shirts, I will forever remember this St. Patrick's Day as the one where I realized that my children have grown up right before my eyes...but I just wasn't looking.

I took Ella to school this morning after our food colored breakfast caused her to miss the bus.  While we were waiting in the drop off line, I turned to the back seat to say something to her, and there they were: her sneakered feet were touching the floor of the car.  THE FLOOR!  Just yesterday, those little toes were dangling over the side of her car seat and then the booster seat.  But not touching the floor!  It was like that moment before death that some people talk about, where your life flashes before your eyes.  Ella's childhood, all seven and a half years of it, swirled around me in a tenth of a second.  In my head I sobbed, but then I looked at how proud she was when I screamed, "Your feet are touching the floor!"  Her two beautiful dimples gleamed as the sun streamed through the window, and her eyes smiled at me just as they do on a normal, non-eventful day.  Oh, how I love my clever, loving, shy, caring, and gorgeous Daniella.  Mothers seem to experience the most extreme emotions, more than any other person on Earth, I think.  And these emotions cut us to the core, cause intense, searing pain, at the same time that joy spreads over us. 
Yes, I will never forget this day of pride, love, sadness, love, pain, and love.  I grieve Ella's littleness, but I celebrate all the greatness ahead of her.  Her feet are really touching the floor.  (And my tears of joy and sadness touch the floor, too.)
Thanks for reading! ;)