Wrapped in one of my daisy aprons and nestled in a basket on top of the red dresser on the front porch, Summer Lynn was an angel as Shannon and I snapped away trying to capture the moment and the milestone.
In the cool stillness of her mind she searched the endless ripples. For the alabaster down feathers which now haunted her dreams. Gentle water lapped at her feet and caressed the ones she had grown to love so. A cradle of waves. And in the calm breeze which slightly disturbed her brown curls she watched in revelry. Until the gold of the day turned silver.