I know there are a million things I could be praying for right now. Peace. Comfort. Healing. But, all I can think to pray for right now are mud puddles and ice cream. I told you to fly. To fly to Papa because he would be waiting to hold you, and you can let him for a moment. Let him breathe in the baby shampoo that I put on your curls in those last hours.
But then I want you to get up and run. Run forever. Because you can now, baby. There are no weak sides. No seizures claiming your balance. No need to hold onto anything as you go. Just run. And get dirty. Find a mud puddle and get covered in it. Roll around if you'd like and feel the coolness of it on your face. Then get back up and run again.
When you do, you may find an ice cream stand. It's ok if it's breakfast time. Have all the ice cream you want. It will not be the "special" ice cream you had to eat here. It will not taste strange in your mouth. It will be as if you are 10 months old again, and it will slide down your throat so smoothly. You'll love it just as much as you did then. Maybe more, because I'm guessing there are better flavors there!
And if you'd like to take a break from running sometime, you can climb the trees. You can swing from the branches and then flop down on the grass to do a little fishing. Papa loves to fish and he's the best teacher. He'll show you how to be patient, and how to take your catch off the hook.
When you've run, and fished, and filled your belly with ice cream, if you have a moment, I would love to see you again. In a dream, or any other way you'd like to show me that you're ok. I'll be waiting for it, but don't feel like you have to rush it. I can be very patient. And, hold onto that piece of my heart that I gave you before you left. It will fit right back in it's place when I see you again.