hurricane

No.  It's not hurricane Earl.  Which I'm sure was something to recently cause my mother to spiral into some sort of attack.  Be it an asthma, panic, anxiety, or of any other sort.  Let's just say she doesn't handle natural disasters, or the threat of them, very well.  I love you, Mom!
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This post is not intended to scare.  But to warm your heart.

At least it does mine.

The hurricane I'm referring to is 'hurricane Annaleigh'.  The one that sits atop her head. 
See for yourself:

She has this sweet little swirl pattern to her hair.  And I just love it!  I love looking at it.  Staring at it.  Combing it.  Touching it.  Kissing it.  Smelling it.  And much much more.

I realized that pictures were a must, because, God willing, she will never have hair this short in her life.  Once those lovely locks grow out, this rare beauty of a hurricane will never been seen again.  It will soon die down to a tropical storm.  To stormy clouds.  To a light breeze.  And eventually leading to no one ever remembering it's existence. 

I hope to always realize that this sweet swirl lives down deep on my sweet baby's head.  And to recall how much I just loved it.  How I loved looking at it.  Staring at it.  And how I will still comb it.  Touch it.  Kiss it.  Smell it.  And much much more.