Dear Daughter,
When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. I would watch as the punchline hit and your eyes would gleam from the giggling victory and it was you and you alone who had command of us. The boys unable to control their laughter, the mom unable to tell her to stop, the brother unable to deny that his sister was pretty damn funny.
This perfect storm resulted in you, with nary an inhibition, stripping your 4 year old self of a shirt, justifiably questioning it’s necessity, and requesting that I open the sunroof as we waited for brother’s school bell to ring. There you would stand, shirtless in the gleaming sunshine, waving to those who passed by, some amused, some horrified, most jealous of your effortless sense of freedom.
As the years have gone by, too swiftly as they tend to do, you have never wavered from this independent spirit that resides inside of you. Whether you’re choosing basketball shorts over dresses or baseball over ballet, you still like to get your nails done. You might like to play with the boys but I suspect it’s because your crushes are intense and plentiful. You wear wolf ears in your school picture, you save your money to buy astronaut helmets one day and the next you wish for Steph Curry jerseys and the next for golf clubs.
I hope you always remain blissfully unaware of how you seamlessly morph from one daydream to the next all while remaining intactly, completely, unquestionably you. To so many who have met you, we all have one thing in common: to be you when we grow up. We want to walk around this life in pink motorcycle jackets and basketball shorts; we want to be the only girl on the baseball team; we want your robust determination to try new things; we want to never be afraid to ask questions, to share our feelings; we want to hold court with fart jokes; hell-we want the confidence you have to claim your own fart and then just laugh about it because farts are pretty funny. We want to freestyle rap at the dinner table and slam our bedroom door just because it feels right. We want to chop our hair off and then throw on a baseball cap. We want skateboards and Hamilton tickets and telescopes for Christmas. We want to be scientists, writers, crocodile rescuers and football coaches in a single lifetime. What evades so many of us, for years or even for a lifetime, comes to you so naturally, so easily, this superpower you have of simply being yourself with no barriers to what you can do, who you can be or how you can do it.
For ten years now, this unique spirit has only grown and my wish each passing birthday is that you always hold fast to it. The thought of something or someone crushing that spirit is one I can’t even bear to think about. But you keep proving to me that I don’t have to worry about it, not yet, maybe not ever. You’re just going to go ahead and keep doing it your own way. Even if your way can sometimes be really loud, emotionally draining and full of dramatic exits.
You, dear Daughter, are so much more than a perfect storm of your mom and your dad. You are your own storm, making waves, carving paths and creating majestic mountains. I’m the luckiest to be along for the ride.
Happy 10th Birthday, my sunshine…my only sunshine…
Love,
Mama
