Compassion

That’s a big word for you right now, but at the age of 3, you have more compassion than most adults I know. And you always have —whether it’s befriending and being patient with “your buddy, Lucy” who used to bark loudly at you as you passed by her fenced-in yard but now brings her ball to the gate when she sees you approaching and buries her head in your chest as you gently rub behind her ear or smiling and saying hello to a stranger.

You have always known when someone needed an extra hug, a smile, an “I love you”. That was the case with me this morning. Your Grandma Sharon died a month ago today. I didn’t talk about it with you because it wouldn’t make sense to you. Frankly, it doesn’t make sense to me, either. Yes, you’ve seen me cry probably more than you ever have in your short time on this Earth, but neither one of us has made a big deal out of it when she see me cry.

This morning, you made sure I got extra doses of hugs, kisses and ugamugas. And you told me several times — unsolicited — that you loved me. You ask me often if I am proud of you, and baby, I am. I hope you never doubt that or my love for you. 

You are an incredible girl. And I hope you will never lose your ability to show compassion toward others as you do now because the world needs more people like you.