Oh my sweetest little Ruth, oh my goodness you are two years old.  I so vividly remember being truly afraid, when I was pregnant with  you, that I wouldn’t love you as much as I loved Anne, because Anne was my world for three years and I couldn’t imagine loving another child the way I loved her, with a soul-filling adoration, the kind that made me homesick for her when she was away for the day.  And everyone told me I would, that it would happen, that I’d love the new baby just as much but I though, Not me.  I can’t imagine that.


Oh, hahahaha, what a good joke that all seems now because, my child, you have Swept. Me Away.  I love you more than the bluest skies and the greenest grass, more than springtime and summer nights.  Wow.  Sweet RuLou, you are a kindred spirit, an old soul, a gentle, loving, nurturing, silly little girl—not a baby—a little girl, and you take my breath away.


You love anything having to do with your big sister.  You love imitating whatever she does, even crawling on the floor and growling like a lion.  You hug like no one else—I especially love when I hold you across my front and you wrap  your legs around my waist and tuck your arms under mine and around me and just hold on, nuzzling your sweet little featherhead in my neck.  You call everyone (sissy, Polly, all your friends) “Aiee.”  You wave and say “hieee” and “byee” to everyone we pass and oh, man, everyone we pass in the grocery store and the post office and everywhere else just stops and smiles, and is overcome also by your cuteness.


I can’t believe how different you are from your big sister and yet how perfectly you and she belong together.  How well you meld, how sweet she is to you and how much you adore her.


You love animals, especially cats and dogs; you love pointing out to me all the things you see, and looking for the moon.  You love music and ice cream, babies and Mickey Mouse.  And most of all you love books, sitting and “reading” aloud for the longest stretches of time.  You are a watcher, you are your own little person, you are sweetness and softness, like a little pink rosebud, with a warm golden glow.  I can’t imagine not loving you, not knowing you, my sweet, edible, snuggable Rufie.  Happy birthday!!!