I have two talented, wonderful children. I don't say this often enough. Or even loudly enough. They bring joy and laughter as well as heart bumping angst. Don't all children?
My oldest has a birthday today. I remember her early steps around the perimeter of the living room at Talking Stair Inn. She was so proud of her accomplishment. And we were so excited to have such a sunny, beautiful little girl. I remember our early walks, she stopping every few feet to admire a leaf, a dandelion, or a particularly interesting stick. We would, of course, have to bring the stick home with us to admire at a later time. There was quite a collection of them at the back door. I remember walking to the local elementary school, golden ringlets bobbing down the street, and attacking the swing set with fierce joy. She would belt the ABCs whilst reaching to the sky with those pink and white sneakers. I remember the smile on her face as I came to pick her up at Nursery School. I remember the frowning concentration of drawing and coloring at the little yellow table.
When I see her as a young woman now, it seems like those memories are a million years away. They happened to two other people, distinct from the two of us. But then she smiles joyfully at her accomplishments and I am whisked away to the time of sunny afternoons singing the ABC song holding a little hand, and a stick in the other, ringlets bobbing down the sidewalk.
Happy Birthday sweetie. Love you lots!
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