A 4 year oldI spent time with my boyfriend's family yesterday. His cousin just had a baby, 3 weeks old, and has another daughter who just turned 4.
My boyfriend and I bought her a bike for her birthday. She was so happy, jumping around giggling. Full of life. Full of sweet innocence and trust.
I spent hours playing with her, pushing her on her bike all around the house. I held the baby for a while, and just stared at her while she slept in my arms.
It was glorious and heart wrenching.
I sat there watching the 4 year old little girl imagining myself at that age. How precious and vulnerable she is. How trusting and how much she needed her parents to take care of her. How much she needed all of us to take care of her and love her.
How could anyone want to hurt something so precious?
I can't put into words the pain and sadness I feel. The incredible loss.
I was just a little girl. A 4 year old girl when he came to my room for the first time. When he climbed into bed with me and held me close and started touching me I remember feeling scared and confused. I remember not liking it, but it was my DADDY. He was my hero. He was the man who would wake me up before he went to work so we could have breakfast together, Count Chocula cereal and strawberry jelly on toast. He was the man who would hold me on his knee and read me bedtime stories, changing the characters name to my own to make it more exciting. He was the man who would kiss my boo-boos better and wipe away my tears. He was the man who was hurting me at night, doing unthinkable things to a 4 year old girl.