It wasn't a big deal.
Well, it shouldn't have been.
I was just going around the house after putting the baby to bed last night, picking up a stuffed bunny here, wiping fingerprints off the table there, and doing a little quilting in between.
Then I went to hang up Lydia's new winter coat. Her very first coat. I set it on the stairs, thinking it would go in her closet. But then I thought better of it. It was a coat, after all, even if it was just itty bitty.
To the coat closet it would go, with all the other coats.
I opened the closet and hung the little coat. I went to shut the door and go on to my next task, but I looked up just in time to see a beautiful sight, one that, as I said before, shouldn't have been a big deal.
But it brought tears to my eyes, I tell you.
There before me was a daddy coat, a mommy coat, and a baby coat.
Suddenly that old coat closet was no longer the place where I hastily threw my bags, scarfs, and hats, where Brian's dusty binoculars hung from a peg, and where my bent umbrella quietly stood at the ready. I saw it as a symbol. I wondered how many more itty bitty coats I will be able to hang in our closet over the years. I wondered how many would be girly, and how many would be blue.
I wondered how it would feel to watch the coats get bigger and bigger until they disappeared altogether.
But for now, there are the three. A daddy coat, a mommy coat, and a baby coat.
And they are all just right.