She burns so brightly

Did I mention that I have this amazing kid? 

She is all energy and boldness.  Since she was born, we have told her stories of how she is the stuff of stars.  As she grows more into who she is becoming, I am starting to believe our bedtime myths.

She burns so brightly. 

Like a fierce fire.

Yes, she is a Sagittarius and her hair is orange and wild.  It is not just orange straight hair that falls in flimsy, limp lines over her head.  It is this sticky mass of unruly, copper strands pointing ever to the ceiling. 

Her whole little being breathes like a dragon’s mouth.  She hates to have on many clothes.  When I am reaching for a sweatshirt and skullcap to warm my frozen bones, she is tearing off her hoodie and running barefoot over the cold wood floors of our house.

She is willful and determined.  She is thoughtful and athletic beyond measure.  She loves to wrestle and dance and spin.  She also digs books with this kind of intensity that makes me glad and terrified all at once. 

I sit dreading the day when she will be too heavy to climb to the top of my feet and hang in her koala bear hugging way high in the air as far as I can extend my legs.

She is defiant.  I think her name might mean defiance.  Defiant like kid looks ma in the face when she tells you not to sit your raw bottom on the couch pillows, and, instead of listening, kid spreads her butt cheeks and grinds them into said couch pillows.  

But, maybe defiance and resistance are just regular elements of toddlerhood? 

And, if not, I know that someday her willful spirit will translate into useful power. Right now her willful ways drive me wild, but I dream of the day when she uses her stubborn heart and hardcore determination to rally for what she knows is right when faced with injustice and/or the conditions of human made suffering.  Her ferocity will be a kind and strong tool in her metallic and wide belt. 

She is made of stardust after all. 

She burns the orange of sun-star leaving scorch marks all over my chest.  One day the scars caused by her fire might fade to lovely tattoos—remnants of raw determination and the bold heart of childhood fashioned securely on my skin and over the soft tissue of my brain.  For now, I meet her willful heart in a spirit of peace.  And, mostly, I fail.  But, she is leaving me with desire to memorize her ways and maybe even use them in my own life.

Active stardust.  Like sparks.  Like deep embers.  Like knowing that my bright light righteousness will get me what I want now.