It’s my daughter’s birthday, and as is always the case when one of my children celebrates a birthday, the day was a smorgasbord of feelings, from nostalgia and regret to gratitude, pride and pure joy. Throw in some smoked ham and a boiled egg for good measure. It’s hard to celebrate your child’s next spin around the sun, without reflecting on the fourteen that have already spun. FOURTEEN. That’s a lot of highs and lows (hers and mine), spilt milk, exploding diapers, tears, laughter, jaunts around the shopping mall, to reflect on. That’s a lot of expectations not met (you will fall in love with her the second you see her) and so many that exceeded your wildest dreams (when the love comes it will be so immense that your heart will have no choice but to triple in size). That’s a lot of firsts; first steps, first stitches, first time away from home. It’s Iole’s birthday today, and I watched her open gifts and eat carrot cake with too sweet icing from our local bakery –– all the lovely, mundane things –– while quietly remembering and marveling and wishing her the universe.
