I love my small girl’s face. In fact, I cannot get enough of it.
And it is covered in freckles. Every day, it seems… another one appears. And another one. Every time I share a picture of her, someone will say, “I just LOVE her freckles!”
At nearly 8 years old, she is just now beginning to notice herself. And by ‘notice’, I mean I’m catching the extended curious glances in the mirror. She is assessing.
And the freckles are being put under the microscope. She has realized they make her ‘different’. When you are a young girl… different is not always good.
She’s had these freckles since she was itty-bitty and we’ve always talked about them as though they are a gift…. because, frankly I believe it to be so. We’ve called them ‘angel kisses’, we’ve made a game of counting new ones in the morning as though they appeared over night (it often seems as though they do) and we’ve always said the word ‘freckles’ with a smile on our faces.
Why have I paid so much attention to this? Because I too, have freckles. And as a kid, they weren’t a source of pride. They often made me the target of some pretty interesting name-calling. So, I’m determined to get to my small girl’s self esteem before any one else does.
I want her to love the skin she’s in. Love the freckles and tone and the blemishes and the imperfections. The freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks are a bit of a trademark for her and they won’t be going away.
I think they are lovely. I think she is lovely.
And I hope…. that sprinkle of freckled goodness across her face will always bring her joy.
I hope I am teaching her to love the skin she is in…