At four years old, she’s either naked or dressed in her favorite navy dress with the star print. Her limbs are long, brown and perfect. Bony knees and rib cage. Wild hair curly hair that has grown at the rate of any normal person’s throughout the year but is still quite short considering I’ve never cut it.

A string of willow leaves wrapped around her head and trailing behind her. Maybe a pair of tap shoes.

She gives an involuntary shudder if she sees a bug and will step around that empty space for days after it’s gone.

She still lives in a world of her own. She has little interest in the concept of time and space. I try to teach her about tomorrow and next week. She teaches me that today is all that matters.

She is never happier than when traveling. Since we were walking around the streets of Salamanca just to fill in the hours, she has shown me how important it is to keep moving.

She loves hard and passionately. Defends her brother with her whole body. She is anger and joy mixed together in an ernest little package, with not much regard for authority and a growing confidence of her place in the world.

My daughter is so wild and free, and she challenges most things I once knew to be true.

Which in itself, is cause for celebration.