The spring sports are starting. The first of the last dance competitions is in our rear view. I don’t need to be told how fast the spring goes. I know in a blink that I’ll be taking photos of you in your prom dress. I already know that you’ll be so beautiful, so confident, the way you catch the light in the room is tremendous. It is your time to be on the stages. The final performances. The last dance. The cap and gown… the turn of the tassel. The wanting, yearning to pause time. The fleetingness of it all.
Own all of it.
My god girl you deserve it.
And just a disclaimer: I’m going to be deep in my feels but you already know that. Just know that it would be impossible to not be caught in the crossroads of the pure joy in watching your baby grow up and soar and the pure heart wrenching disbelief on how fast it all goes. There are so many blurred lines of parenthood that you don’t always remember the specifics. But you do remember how it feels.
The baby asleep on my chest.
The toddler with pigtails that would sit down to go down any step no matter how small.
The fuchsia glasses evolved to contacts.
The dress up heels to real heels in a blink.
When did she stop carrying baby dolls… when did those front teeth come in… when did she stop needing me to tuck her in… when did her mornings become independent of mine?
The wide eyed girl with skinned knees to the oldest sister carrying car keys came upon us too fast.
It is all beautiful and part of this unwavering contract of parenthood but it all still feels.
My friend Becca recently described having a senior as just the best most exciting thing that is so completely gutting at the same time. Exactly that. The righteousness of the timeline of life and the feeling of being hijacked of more time.
And I know she is ready. It is me who has some catching up to do.
Did I teach her enough? Did I prepare her for the real world? Give her enough vegetables? Hug her enough? Was I enough? Oh, real world you better be kind to her. Or else. I swear. So yes, I’m doing fine. Threatening the world is completely normal.
But you see she is my first. My oldest. My first attempt at this all-encompassing love. My mother-in-law once said, “I’ll never say I love you the most but I will have loved you the longest.” I have loved her the longest. She became the big sister at two years old. And the big sister that helped me raise twins at four along with a baby brother. These years of her rising to challenges, keeping those babies entertained, being a keeper of consistent love and light in my life, in all of our lives has been the most stunning thing to witness.
And still there are a million more things to tell you.
You don’t have to be like anyone else.
Stay on top of those oil changes.
Look people in the eye when you shake their hands.
The internet is written in ink.
You are a ten. Please don’t give your energy and time to people not worthy of it.
Don’t settle.
Buy good pens.
Tell the people that you love that you love them.
Don’t get distracted by things that have nothing to do with your goals.
Bored is a word that doesn’t need to exist in your vocabulary.
Read what makes you happy.
Eat your vegetables.
Educate yourself on finances.
See the world.
Your body is the house of your soul- take care of it.
Failing is inevitable. It is how you rise that defines character.
Fall in love with yourself first.
Write things down.
Friends can be your soulmates.
You only get one chance to be young- enjoy it, don’t waste it but also keep your wits about you.
Your future is so bright.
Never doubt how proud I am of you.
I love you more.
There are a million more things to tell you.
I thought I had more time.
I thought I had more time.
Above all else, you are ready. You are enough.
You’ve got this. I know you do.
And I’m just a phone call away. Always.
We’ve got this.
