I found an old photograph of my daughter and me. She was freshly bathed and in her jammies.
It is funny now, but when I look at this shot, I can still smell the baby powder and feel the terrycloth footy pajamas. The baby soft strawberry wisps of hair were delicate against my cheek as she would nuzzle into my neck.
Last night I gave her a kiss and hug. The smell is different and the hair hangs long. Terrycloth is replaced with denim pants and cotton t-shirts. She hugs with force and I love it.
