Fifteen

Dear Lily,

Yesterday you turned 15. I think you had a pretty good day. Aside from the fact, you didn't get the new phone you were coveting. I believe you were holding out hope until the last gift was opened even though I warned you that was not happening. I didn't let you get your hopes up because you are a wise young woman and I knew you'd see the foolishness in buying a new phone when we are still paying for your "old" phone. Truthfully, I almost caved. Dad was the strong and most sensible one.

Some day you'll appreciate that lesson of delayed gratification. It's one your generation knows so very little of and we, the parents, are to blame. That is a post for another time.

You did receive the prettiest green St Christopher medal that I love seeing around your neck, exclusive Japanese beauty products, and gift certificates to one of your favorite stores. There will be more gifts this weekend when we gather for a birthday celebration at Windmill Beach.

It's not about the things though. The best gifts don't necessarily come wrapped in pretty paper with matching bows. Not to deny that we love those too, but the gifts of time and togetherness are far shinier and forever.

It's the reason I left work at noon so we could hike our favorite trails. We reluctantly bathed in Deet before hitting the Woodland Loop. The breeze through the trees was delightful. Hypnotic. You were delighted by the peeper toads along the path. The little things. Literally. When we got down to the lake, the flies were biting. They were fierce. I lasted only long enough to find my heart shaped rock. One every time I visit. A sign. A hug.

The story goes...

The day after Nanny's death, our little family came to this place for a little natural therapy. On the Woodland Loop in the middle of the day, we saw a huge barred owl sitting in a tree. It watched us. We watched him as we circled the path. It meant something to me. Somehow I felt it was important, but soaked in grief, I couldn't figure out exactly what. On the beach a little while later, you picked up a heart shaped rock and gave it to me from Nanny. You were four. always a little wise beyond your years. Now the rocks are our thing: mine and yours, and mine and Nanny's.

Yesterday we lived new stories. We'll talk about the day we ran like banshees through the trails and up the ravine two sweaty, swatting crazy ladies as flies swarmed us. It's the best workout I've had in awhile. We'll remember going to Hibachi for dinner and having the most bizarre waitress who gave you a a single spiral candle when she heard it was your birthday.

At the end of the night, we lounged around the living room, our preferred present spot, and after you opened gifts, we looked through both your baby and your birthday books. We laughed at some of the funny things you've said. The way you used to call Teddy "Deddy" and yourself  "Willy." Anything you want to know is written there or in one of your library of journals.

You told me that you appreciate the memories I've captured. And that sometimes you read bits and parts of your journals. Also you like the way that my blog keeps our current stories. And I, of course, love hearing that you appreciate the heart and soul I put into honoring our history. Writing is my love language.

I love you Cutie to the moon and back and every year on this day I thank the Heavens above that you are mine.

XO,

Mom