Today my incomparable daughter turns twenty. It sounds trite to say, “I was there when you were born.” But I was, actually.
Where did two decades go? I can see the passage of time in the wrinkles on my own face, but it seems like such a short while ago that I was pushing a double stroller, doling out Cheerios and wondering how I’d make it to the end of the day.
I loved parenting young children, and in my memory those years take on a rosy glow. But truth be told, it wasn’t always so delightful, so feel-good, arts-’n-crafts-sy. Baby #2 (Sarah) challenged me with her strength of voice, of will, of personality. I think she was one of those “spirited children.” But since my first two kids were born seventeen months apart, there were a number of years when I didn’t get past the first chapter of my books — so I never benefited from much of Mary Sheedy Kurchina’s advice. I did, however, enjoy re-visiting classics from my own childhood: Goodnight Moon, Ferdinand the Bull and Sylvester and the Magic Pebble.
Now she’s nearly grown. Not much left for me to do but be her friend, occasional mentor and guide, and forever biggest fan. Happy Birthday, Sarah! I love you!
Happy Birthday, dear Sarah. And many more. Love always, Moira