In between twelve and fifteen months, Scarlett has become a blur of her formal self. Physically, she’s only mildly longer, a little more plump, and her hair has only grown from the length of her eyes to the length of her lips if it isn’t back in a clip. But personality-wise, it’s as if she’s become unlocked.
And has proceeded to go ape-shit wild on the world.
When she’s happy, she sticks her tongue out to the side and laughs like there’s no tomorrow. Her two front teeth are coming in strong at the top now, but those two little suckers on the bottom are all you can see. Her eyes fall away behind happy, moon-shaped lids. Her hair, uncommonly long in the front for a baby her age, is perpetually falling over her face, and in all of the movement of her little doings, every small detail of her is a blur.
When I look back on these past few months, I know that this is what I’ll remember. A hundred blurry photos I can’t bring myself to delete off of my computer, and a thousand more stashed away inside my mind, like photos that move and disappear into one another, the way she’s always doing around the house. One minute here, and happy. Another minute there and falling apart over the twelfth crisis faced in three hours. A second later, laughing again, squealing and chasing after a whim.