My Faery

Tomorrow, my first baby starts school.

In some ways, it feels like a huge milestone... yet it also seems as though she's been barrelling towards this day since her birth.

My first baby, who - instead of crying when she was born - looked up at my face after she was placed on my chest, and studied me intently. An old soul peered at me through her eyes, like we'd met before.

My Faery, who was speaking in sentences at such an early age. Despite her baby face, people always expected her to be older, because of how well she could speak.

My Faery, whose personality is one big paradox. Incredibly innocent, but also mature beyond her years. How is that even possible?

My Faery, who has such a sensitive soul. An ever thoughtful, kind, considerate little girl with an amazing awareness for others' feelings.

My Faery, who's had to learn the meaning of adaptation over the last twenty months - more than many adults do in a decade of living. First of all, becoming a sister (sharing J and I after having us to herself for three and a half years), then moving to another country and leaving all that she'd known and loved - in her short little life - behind.

My Faery, who possesses a runaway imagination. Books are devoured, and I can't keep up with her output of drawings. Empty boxes, toilet rolls, odd-shaped plastic packaging - in her eyes, they are all potential toy homes, robots and rocket ships.

My Faery, with her heart-shaped face, a light splatter of freckles under wide blue eyes and across her tiny nose. White golden hair with unruly waves, and the most stubborn cowlick to boot... have I mentioned how stubborn she is, too?

I watch her in awe, and study her features, amazed at this beautiful creature. She's sweet, she's smart, she's healthy and - I hope - happy.

I couldn't ask for more.