Dear Eliza, I have found myself each morning passing your room and stopping in to say, "Good morning, baby girl". Your room is beautiful now that it's complete, but it is empty. I can't wait for you to come and make a mess of the gorgeous pillows on the window seat, to see toys strewn across the perfectly polished floors, to come in to find the expensive curtains pulled off the rods and onto the floor. (Someone will have to remind of this oath once it actually happens ... ha!). Because until we see your sweet face in that room it will always feel incomplete.
Today is Monday. It was back to work after a beautiful and lazy weekend. Saturday we spent the day in the lake with your Auntie Alison and Uncle Michael. We laid about in floats all day and got too much sun. It was relaxing and just what we needed. Yesterday I went to brunch with Maggie and Max (I'm Max's godmother). Max is 4 and has a sister just a month older than you, Maggie and I expect the two of you to become close friends once you meet! We had our brunch at the very restaurant where your father and I made our monumental decision to begin an adoption almost 5 years ago. All we knew of you in that moment is that you hadn't yet been born but would be born in China.
During brunch with Maggie and Max I noticed at the table next to us a dad and mom with their Chinese daughter who was about 8 or 9 years old. I tried not to stare but I couldn't help watching them as I thought about how many times I've imagined taking you to that very restaurant and sitting in the very booth where we made our decision to come and find you.
As always I said goodnight to you as I passed your room.
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