Fly High

I was driving to the office this morning, counting the hours of good sleep I've gotten lately (very few) and wishing I was still in my bed. But then, rush hour traffic graced me with yet another red light, and as I sat there in my car, I suddenly stopped thinking about when I would get to my email and discovered the way the leaves of the big, old trees, silent sentries watching over Providence Road, filtered the morning sunlight. And I knew then that if I was still asleep, I would have missed that.

Taylor has never once forgotten to look for joy in the most unexpected places and has a knack for finding it when most of us would just pass on by. She can't see her movies, so she listens. She couldn't see the over-the-top production side of the concerts she's attended the past several years, but she can sing the lyrics to every song and will be the first to tell you that the Jonas Brothers are 'hot.' She couldn't see the blooming flowers and blue sky Mom and I saw as the three of us took a walk recently, but she proudly held Sunny's leash, felt the cool spring breeze on her face, put one foot after the other and never once complained that she was the only one who couldn't enjoy the azaleas. And though she needed my help finding each rung of the ladder on our cousins' playground set when we visited them last month, when it was her turn to swing, she swung higher than anyone. She had a huge grin on her face, and she reached for the sky.

Fly high, Teaser. I love you.