Seventeen years ago today I was holding my new baby in my arms. I was only a baby myself.
I promised her lots of things that day. Don't we all? I promised her I'd find her a reasonably sane father. I promised her a puppy. I promised her I'd try to avoid the mistakes made by the people who raised me. I mean, we all make mistakes... but why compound them?
I promised not to pin my hopes and dreams on her. And I didn't.
Dear Amazing Girl,
Happy Grown Up! I don't care what anyone says. When you're seventeen you may as well be eighteen. The world views you grown. Other kids would shrink at the idea... but not you. You came out wanting to stand, and ran before you could crawl. You had a full vocabulary including words like "Parched" and "Beverage" by the time you were two.
You're hitting your stride now and I couldn't be prouder or more envious. I'm in love with your easy way and your independence. All of a sudden I feel a woman next to me. And she's a woman I'd be lucky to call friend.
Now, take out the garbage and get me a fresca.