I thought I was raising children...

I thought I was raising children...

Sunday, April 12, 2015

A Letter to My Daughter on her 17th Birthday



My Sweet Three Year Old,

Happy 17th Birthday my love!  As I write this, you are 3 but you are 17 as you read this - getting ready for your senior year of high school (I think), almost an adult but not quite yet.  

I wonder who you are, my 17 year old daughter.  I wonder if you are still as stubborn and silly as the three year old you is - if you still manage to still the spotlight the way the toddler you does.  I wonder if you still embrace life with a smile and a laugh full of joy and mischief.  I wonder if you still tell knock knock jokes that you don't get, if you still dance and twirl and sing at the top of your lungs.  Your favorite three year old activity is to make up songs - I wonder if you are still musical and writing songs.  

I have so many hopes for you my 17 year old darling.  I hope that you believe in magic and fairy tales, that you are not such a cynic in today's technological world that you fail to see the wonder in nature, the romance in simple tasks.  I hope that you are enough for yourself and that you value who you are more than you value anyone else's opinion.  I hope that you are still talking - for 3 year old you, your voice was your lullaby.  You started talking the moment you opened your eyes and didn't stop until you fell asleep at night.  I hope that 17 year old you still has a voice and that you use it to be kind, and truthful, and gentle, and strong. 

You are so beautiful, my angel.  I am not referring to outward beauty - that is only what people see, and our eye's fool us daily.  You are beautiful in your zest for life - your desire to embrace and to feel every day to the fullest.  You are beautiful in your love for animals - how you hug the dogs, and talk to them and sing to them and cuddle them.  You are beautiful in your desire to cuddle and love and simply be with other people. 

You are like no one else my darling.  Be unique and kind and only give to others what you want to give.  Teenage years can be turbulent, but remember - storms will make your roots deeper and you stronger.  You own yourself - tell your stories, make your choices, be yourself.  I am proud of you for simply being you. 

I love you and I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.  

Love, Mom
 

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