Little Flowers

My sister had a baby this past weekend, her third girl.

Sadly, I am far, far away and couldn’t be there for the events or for giving the older nieces lots of hugs and buying them inappropriately over-the-top big-sister gifts. It’s driving me crazy. But thanks be to Facebook, my brother-in-law posted some pictures, including this one:


Which, I tell you what, really tore my heart right out of my chest because here is a picture I took almost six years ago:


It’s not really a secret that my sister’s oldest daughter is about my favorite person on the planet. If I have to choose one person to be on the desert island with me, sorry other-nieces-and-nephews (and husband) – it’s going to be my Spazmina.

(It just occurred to me to wonder – is it a desert island as in “sandy, dry, full of cactus” or desert as in deserted? This is probably a very important question!)

Anyway. Even though I haven’t met her yet (and just declared my primary allegiance to her oldest sister) I am just wild about this baby. I am wild about the way she looks just like her older sister, the middle one, except that she has curls. I am wild about how well-cooked she looks, totally edible. Nothing newborn scrawny about her, and yet still so tiny and perfectly squishy. I am wild to see how she grows up, what her accent will be like, how beloved she will be.

Sadly, that all has to wait. But until then, there’s Facebook. And for once, I am glad.

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