Today at 6:32 a.m. Cutie you turned 9 years old. You often strike me as much older than your years suggest because you possess a kindness and empathy that speak of age and experience. Of course, we know you are an old soul. An old beautiful soul.
Last night we passed on our regular read to look at journals chronicling your evolution from zygote to baby girl to young lady. I read to you an excerpt I wrote about the moments we shared just after you were born and we both fought back tears from our eyes. You could hear them in my voice though, and so you comforted me. You already understand bittersweet.
When I tucked you in and told you I'd see you when you were 9, your eyes filled up. You confessed that you just felt a little sad. Growing up is scary and unsettling to the same extent it is fun and exciting. I tried to lighten the mood by suggesting you just pull a Peter Pan and don't grow up. Stay 9, I suggested, Stay 9 for at least 12 months. You chuckled.
I love each and every year of you. It's such a privilege to bear witness to who you are becoming...to be a part of your journey...to receive your love. It's a blessing to be your mom. But the truth is I'd tinker with time if given the choice. I'd go back. I'd stop it. I know I wouldn't fast forward it though.
The constant in all of this growing up is that I will always be here for you, loving you, supporting you, marveling at the beauty that emanates from you inside out. Whether your 9 or 49...you can count on me to love you wholeheartedly and unconditionally every day. That's something I learned from my mom by the way.
Last night you asked if my mom kept my memories. I said yes. I have a half complete baby book like most of my generation. I may go a little overboard with journals and photos and mementos, but I know it's worth it when I see how much you cherish them all.
One thing I want to tell you that I'm not sure you'll read in any journal: when I found out I was expecting you, my second child, I prayed for a girl. It goes without saying that more than anything I wanted a happy, healthy baby, but I confess that I put those girly intentions out there in the universe. About a month before you were born, I knew we would be welcoming our Lily Kathleen, and not our William Robert. I knew because a lone tiger lily bloomed in a bed of ferns below what would become your bedroom window. It was the only tiger lily we ever had in all the years we lived in our home before or after your birth, and that happened to be your chosen name.
Happy Birthday beautiful girl! All you ever need to know is that I love you to the moon and back, and that will never change.
Always and forever, Mom
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