Every drive of the car brings a snapshot in the rearview mirror. We talk and joke and sing through the rearview. We make faces, blow kisses, and occasionally pout through the rearview.
One recent drive has us departing from the airport after leaving daddy behind and my glance to the rear reveals eyes as big as saucers with pools gathering. The bluest of blues, bluer than the sky, those eyes. One tear escapes and comes rolling down her cheek and with a swallowed gasp I realize she is holding back a cry with every ounce of strength she thinks she needs. And that kind of cry is more painful to all hearts than the loudest cry there is.
What’s wrong? I ask, as I hold this sweet, sweet face in my hands. And the cascade of tears finally fall from the blue, blue pools in her eyes.
Heart broken, she is a princess who has lost her prince.
Sometimes a cry just needs to be. So I take her in my arms without a word and just hold her.
In the back of the car. Face to face. Heart to heart.