When Kya was a toddler, she was exactly who she is today – gentle, curious, thoughtful, happy in her own world. I look back at photos of her now and I can see it so clearly. That same quiet concentration. That same little smile when something caught her attention. She hasn't changed – she's just grown into more of herself.
Nothing about her core has changed. Her routines, her calmness, her way of exploring things – all still the same. Even back then, she had her own rhythm. Her own pace. She never rushed. She never needed to be the loudest in the room. She was content just being, and honestly, there was something really special about watching that.
I remember mornings when she'd sit quietly with a book – not reading it, not yet – but turning the pages carefully, studying the pictures, lost in whatever world she'd found between the covers. She could do that for ages. No fuss, no noise, just Kya and her book. Other parents would ask how we got her to sit so still. We didn't. She just did.
We didn't see "signs" or "differences". We just saw our little girl being herself. People sometimes ask when we first "knew" – when we first noticed something was different. But looking back, there was never a moment of alarm. There was just Kya, doing things her way. And her way was beautiful.
She's always loved the small things. A leaf on the ground. The way the light came through the window. The feel of a certain fabric between her fingers. While other toddlers were tearing around, Kya was noticing things the rest of us walked straight past. She taught me to slow down before I even realised I needed to.
There's a pressure, as a parent, to compare. To measure your child against milestones and charts and what everyone else's kids are doing. And I'll be honest – there were moments early on when I felt that pull. But every time I looked at Kya, really looked at her, I saw a child who was perfectly fine. More than fine. She was thriving, just on her own terms.
Her gentleness has never wavered. Even now, years later, she moves through the world with this quiet kindness that catches you off guard. She doesn't demand attention – she earns it, simply by being who she is. People are drawn to her calmness. It's rare, especially in children, and it's something I've always admired about her.
And the truth is, she's still that same wonderful person – just older, taller, and even more herself. The toddler who sat quietly turning pages is now a girl who loses herself in stories and facts and the things she loves. The child who noticed every leaf and every shadow still sees the world in ways most of us have forgotten how to.
She's always been Kya. And I wouldn't have her any other way.
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