Dear 13

Hey Kid,

Happy 13th birthday! You're finally a teenager!

Sometimes I think about the day you were born, after the dust had settled and the nurses had moved you to the nursery. Your dad and I went to the lobby of the hospital to make some calls. When I walked back to the nursery wing, my heart was racing. I had this terrible fear that I wouldn't remember which one was you, that I wouldn't recognize my new daughter. After all, I didn't carry you in my womb and we had only just met. I remember seeing a row of bassinets, each one containing a newly-arrived human. I nervously scanned the row.

But, I knew you right away. I've always known you, baby girl. I know your tender heart and your crazy curls. I know your green eyes and your fear of spiders. I know your infectious laugh and your insistence on pulling doors that clearly say "push." I know you.

I am so very proud of the young woman you are becoming. I love how you treat other people with kindness and compassion. I love how you keep singing, even when you think no one is listening. I love how you understand my quirky sense of humor so thoroughly that you make jokes that slay me on the spot. I love how you still let me hold you. Please know that you will never be too old for that.

We have running jokes, you and I. "You're my favorite," I say.

"I'm your only," you respond.

And you are, of course. My only. My person.

Happy birthday, Goober.

Love, Mom


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