I remember. I remember dreading your birth and being excited about your birth. Scared and alone. Happy and joyously exhuberant. That's what happens when your mom is just a kid, herself.
I remember you, a little lion...or was it a lamb? In your first snowsuit, ready to come home. I remember thinking we had a lifetime.
I remember first steps to greet me at my car. First words. Hugs and kisses. Rocking in the chair to Crystal Gayle and dancing you around the room to "Brown Eyed Girl". I remember the sweetness that was your Daddy-to-be, rocking you to sleep the first time he met you. A Daddy/Daughter love affair started.
I remember the "I gotta Go POOPS really, really BAD" trip to Mackinac. The first day of school. You, in play. A play the director didn't think you could be in, until your 5 year old self assured him, "I can
too read..." And you did. Better than a lot of the 5th graders there.
Our wedding day. I remember that too. You with the corsage, and the really big smile... as you held your daddy's hand on the walk from the car.
A new baby brother and the day Daddy made you really and truly ours...
I remember stubborness and unclean rooms. Arguments and tears. But I try not to. Focus on the positive.
I remember the Spelling Bee. How would I, could I ever forget... a trip to D.C., forced marches, fun and love.
Basketball, Softball, and Volleyball games. Years of seemingly endless drives to practices and games.
The first year of high school. Looking back and realizing how quickly that lifetime together would pass.
And now, 18... 18, and almost grown up. The time passed far too quickly. And sometimes it seems as if it didn't happen at all-this life we all had together.
Happy birthday Brown Eyed Girl. We have always been proud of you and we have always loved you.