Almost a decade ago, I wrote the first of what was supposed to be a four-part series of letters to my kids, explaining why each of them was my favorite. Inspired by Erma Bombeck many years ago, I wrote the first entry about Nadia. Somehow, nine+ years and a whole lot of life passed, and I never wrote the other three.
It’s been an especially emotional year or so, as I have watched my Grace - nicknamed over the years as Butterbean, KungFu Grace, my little flowerpot, and, more recently, Beast - grow into a strong, capable and confident young woman. Over this last year, she has completed a series of “lasts”…her last season of playing volleyball, her last year of high school, and all the culminating things that go with them…before a whole new series of “firsts,” as she heads off to college and begins a new life that I won’t be a part of every day, that I won’t be able to watch her settle in to or to thrive in. As we continuously near Grace’s move-in date in a week, my heart breaks a little more each day.
As I was at the grocery store with Grace last weekend, I was observing my 5’7”, physically fit and strong girl stocking up on toiletries and medicines to take with her, enamored with the image of who she has become, so far. And then, around the corner came a woman pushing a shopping cart with a little blonde girl in the seat, kicking her tiny, sandaled feet, back and forth, back and forth. All I could see in that moment was a 16-year-old memory, of me pushing a shopping cart with a 2-year-old Grace in the cart seat. I could see her superfine, blonde hair falling out of her little flowered barrette, I could see her little painted toenails, and her one crooked little toe, in her white velcro sandals with a butterfly on them. In that moment, I felt my heart seize and a giant lump lodged in my throat. I felt tears filling my eyes and tried to fight them back so as to avoid a grocery store scene in the HABA aisle. As I told this story to someone the following day, I burst into tears and sobbed for many minutes, admitting the ugly truth over how much I will miss my girl.
So, this is part two of my four love letters, dedicated to my firstborn.
Dear Grace,
I love you the most because you were/are such an easy kid to parent that you gave me the confidence to have more kids, since I thought Dad and I were just super-amazing parents, based on how well you slept as a baby and how well you ate, and how good you were at cleaning up your toys. Little did I know how much nature - not nurture - played a role in your “easiness,” but now that’s something else I’ve come to love and appreciate about you, as well… the general “goodness” that you were born with.
I love you for your bravery. I still remember the day we took you to Eisenhower Elementary in Junction City, KS, for your first day at your new school, halfway through your kindergarten year. You were so shy and quiet back then, and I was terrified for you as we stood there in the office, introducing ourselves to Ms. Linda and Ms. Patty. They offered for us to walk down with you to your new classroom, but you said no. You said your goodbyes to us, stoically, and went with them down the hall to your new classroom. I remember standing in the hall, watching you walk down the long corridor, and how I cried in fear and nervousness for your transition. You walked down that hallway and never once turned and looked back. You were all of five years old, and you never looked back for a glimpse of us, or to reassure yourself or us. You just steeled yourself and did it, and I marveled at that brave girl, as I stood in the midst of my weepy puddle. This was the first time of many when you’ve steeled yourself for hard things and just done them, with a brave face and no complaints.
I love you for your wisdom. Sometimes I need a straight answer about something dicey, and I will consult you because I respect your opinion and your willingness to speak truth, even if it’s not what I want to hear. Thank you for that.
I love you for your humor. You are so sharp-witted and sharp-tongued and funny, and you challenge me to raise my game to be smarter, to be funnier, to be quicker with a zing (having a battle of wits with you is so fun!). I love the relationship we have, centered around this humor… so much of our relationship is based on teasing me, throwing me under the bus (or potentially into a jail cell) or threatening occasional violence upon me (most recently, at Six Flags, when you lovingly told me that if fear of the ride didn’t kill me, you would), but I love that we can laugh and have fun, and I am completely content to be the source of the mockery. Occasionally, I get to repay the favor (see: the rumor about your prolific yodeling).
I love you for the great friends you’ve chosen and have brought into our lives over the years. This morning, when asked where you were going as you walked out the door, you said, "To unicycle with Grace." Keep choosing people like you have so far, your instincts are good.
I love you for the “possibility” you
inspire - your work ethic and determination imply that you will accomplish
whatever you decide to do, and I can’t wait to watch you as you figure out what
you want to be and do in life. And while the house will be so empty without
you, I'm so excited for you to spread your wings and fly, even though you have
to leave the nest to do so. Go soar, my Love.
