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the incredible weightless weight of my child’s child

I won’t be around forever.

Someday I will be nothing more than a handful of memories shared on holidays, a dozen stories passed around the dinner table, and a hundred bedside prayers providing protection for years to come.
But when I’m gone, there will be people in this world who will remember what my house smelled like and how good my pumpkin cookies tasted fresh from the oven.
Especially one tiny scrap of a boy that has only just arrived.
He doesn’t know this yet, but he is my replacement. And not just mine, but that of all his grandparents who love him till it hurts, but who will be long gone before he reaches the age I am as I sit here writing this blog.
This does not make me sad. 
This makes my heart grow heavy and my eyes get watery, but it’s not from sadness.  
It’s from some kind of strange and sacred happiness I’ve never known before. I thought I felt it as a young mother, but there were burdens and questions and uncertainty tangled up with the joy, and I’m no longer sure it…

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