Bittersweet

Not many of John's and my children favor the Johnson side, but this one is almost a pureblood.  That weak chin and overbite are handed down from me and me alone, and it makes me happy that these noble traits will not die with my generation. 

And a title of "Bittersweet" because immediately after taking this picture of Cadence, I had to go upstairs and dig out a scrap of paper from the memory chest.

In a jumble of papers that included my kindergarten certificates, fifth grade essays, and valedictorian speech, Mom passed along this little doodle after Dad died. I remember asking him about it years ago, a rendering of me at two years old.

Grief still rises, rarer and softer now, but at times no less unexpected, like when I'm watching my own two-year old sit quietly on the couch.