Perfect

I was sitting in the apple orchard, drinking a latte,eating a cookie, listening to music, sitting with good friends.

A toddler had been eyeing me for a while, and finally came up to me. He had the most beautiful crystal blue eyes, startling almond shaped. He approached me and reached out his chubby tanned little hand and started to rub my upper arm, ever so gently.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Those are freckles", I replied, filled with wonder at the feel of his soft little hand rubbing my arm.

As he rubbed my freckles, I felt so peaceful, and looked at my upper arm with such appreciation and satisfaction with how pretty those freckles looked. My freckles.

"Perfect" he said.

His mother looked at me and repeated, "Perfect". "He said you were perfect".

Out of the mouths of babes.

And in that moment.

I was.