Eighteen
Dearest Lauren -
This is our eleventh year of these letters.
I went back and read each one in reverse, from the one I wrote when you turned seventeen, to sixteenth, to fifteen, to fourteen, to thirteen, to twelve, to eleven, to ten, nine and finally, where this tradition began: my eight wishes for you…and one for me.
Here are those wishes:
I wish that you always carry with you this big heart of yours. Beautiful as you are, your heart is your best feature.
I wish that you retain your capacity for empathy, even when you get charged with being too sensitive.
I wish you to hold on fiercely to your belief that you can be anything you want. Because baby, you can.
I wish you continued delight in every wonder. And that even as those big, beautiful wide eyes become dimmer with the skepticism of age, that your curiosity lights your way.
I wish you to feel deeply...the highs AND the lows. No sense avoiding it, 'cause there'll be days like this.
I wish you to KNOW that your voice may be sweet, and it's still mighty. It will take you to places beyond your wildest dreams.
I wish you could see yourself, as we see you.
That you remember this morning: your bear holding your balloons for you, the chocolate croissants in bed, the steady stream of phone calls from family and friends, and the biggest worry of your heart being what party dress to wear to school.
I mean…whew.
Though some of the people who called you ten years ago are now gone, and there may not be balloons (I mean…there MAY be, I’ve written this the day before and you know how I love to change my mind), and the party dress may instead be a fabulous ‘fit (am I allowed to say that?) that I will get to revel in before you bound off to your friends, but these wishes for you still hold the truth of my heart.
And?
I know that as I wrote those wishes on your eighth birthday, I was likely counting down in my mind to THIS birthday. It’s always been in the back of my mind. A slow moving train that would arrive at the station in the most bittersweet of ways…like the day you head off to university this fall (if that’s what you so decide).
(Sigh. I know, I know. Eyeball roll. Upsides of being my daughter? Things are entertaining. Downsides? Sometimes the entertainment is a melodrama. It’s what we signed up for.)
Onward.
Here in Ontario, you are legally an adult.
You can vote, marry, buy a lottery ticket, sue (and be sued), see a rated R movie and quit school, sure. LEGALLY. Some of those choices are better than others and you can sort through which is which.
But let’s dial down the pressure to ADULT, shall we?
Epic gift giver that you are, may I suggest you gift YOURSELF something, for a change?
Give yourself the gift of considering yourself a Novice Adult.
Give yourself the space to get to know this new terrain…but not all of it and not all of it at once.
Give yourself the grace to know you will make mistakes…and build on your ability to make repair.
Give yourself the permission to ease into the version of yourself that you are becoming…and the good sense to enjoy every twist and turn along the way.
None of this is a race.
And you most certainly do NOT need to do any of it alone.
You are surrounded.
And you know what? You always will be.
That’s the magic of being you, the big-hearted human you’ve always been.
The one who looks to understand and asks really good questions….and LISTENS to the answers.
The one whose generosity seems to know no bounds, AND whose boundaries are getting stronger by the day.
The one whose wise counsel is a gift to be cherished. (From one counsel-offerer to another, I bow.)
The one who challenges herself consistently to do better and invites us to do that same.
The one who inadvertently squeals in unbridled delight when something wonderful happens to someone else. In life, on the screen…anywhere. You came alive in others’ joy.
The one whose hands are always cold, except for when they rest on my forearm. Then they are the warmest thing in life…and it feels like home.
I will speak for your father and myself right now to tell you you are our dream come true. We don’t know where you’re going yet, but wherever it is, that’s where the magic will be.
We love you with the fire of a thousand suns, Dear Lauren. Then, now and all the days.
(And this parenting you into adulthood? Easiest gig ever.)
/Mama
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