Monday, March 25, 2013

A Letter to Emma Jane

Dear Emma Jane,

I want to tell you how proud I am of you.  You are growing into an amazing young lady.  You have grown so tall in the last year.  You have always been an old soul but you can really start to see how mature you are around your sister.  You take such good care of her and watch out for her both physically and emotionally.  Your maturity is apparent in your conversations, your art, your interests, your thoughts, your thoughtfulness, your ability to read people, and your social interactions.  You said recently "I don't care what others think or say about me, because I know I am amazing."  I can't express how happy that made me.  You are amazing.  And the way you said it was not conceited.  It was with quiet confidence that you stated what is obvious to me.  I remember being pregnant with you and sitting in a restaurant in Utica Square.  I saw a young girl, maybe 15 or 16 years old, enter the restaurant, glance around the crowded room, and then stride across the restaurant to a group of adults.  When she reached them she stuck out her hand and with confidence, introduced herself and smiled.  I said to the ladies sitting with me, "I want to raise a daughter like that."  And I have.

Your interest in art is consistent in it's presence and varied in it's medium.  I do believe you will have art as your job some day.  It is your calling.  You just need to find which kind of art you will want to focus on.  You have such talent for someone so young.  I hope that you never lose your furtive need to create.  Your focus is singular and intense when you are working on a project.  I love the look in your eyes of concentration and then of pride when you complete a project.

You don't have to like science.  I think that you do, but you don't have to.  It's okay.  I am glad you enjoyed the owl pellets and that you thought finding the skull was cool.  I am glad you aren't scared of earthworms or slimy things.  I loved seeing you get excited about the comet.  But if you don't love science like I do, that is just fine.  There are so many other things we have in common.  It is frightening how the words that are just about to come out of my mouth, come out of yours first.  Or how you can have the same reaction to something that I am having, even when everyone else is opposite us.

I love your quick wit.  Your wittiness is a source of pride for me.  I have always enjoyed being the funniest person in the room but I will gladly turn over the crown to you.  My darling, you are ironic, goofy, funny, quick, sarcastic (a little), and humorous while still being kind.  Your observations make me laugh out loud.  You would rather be thought of as funny than pretty.  And that, my dear, is priceless.  Don't ever lose that.

I love the way you and I share a glance when Lucy is doing something adorable.  I love the way you seem to understand that this time is fleeting.  You seem to grasp that with each milestone that Lucy meets, we won't be going back to Bar B Poo, or Open Stephanie.  How can you be only 10 and have an understanding that these moments are fleeting?  You once said to me "Mom, I wish I had a tiny video camera I could turn on behind my eyes.  One that would record this moment and I could play it back whenever I wanted."

I want you to know that I love you no matter what; no matter what mistakes you make or what grade you make in high school Chemistry, I will love you to infinity.  Stay true to the statement you made about not caring what others think.  You are getting ready to enter a time where it might be difficult to ignore what people say about you.  Stay strong and always know that you are amazing.  You are talented and smart and beautiful and funny.  You can sail a boat, or dissect a brain, or paint a canvas, or write a poem, or sew a lunch bag.  You understand so much about the world and nature and what your place is in it.  You accept people for who they are.  You have such sweet acceptance for people from all walks of life.  Don't ever lose that.  Keep your mind open.  Question the status quo.  Follow the rules until they don't make sense anymore.  Listen to that inner voice that told you to come to me and tell me something wasn't right.  That internal compass has served you well and I believe that it will continue to serve you well if you listen to it.

Above all else, I want you to know how proud I am of you.  You are a bright shining light.  You can be anything you want to be and my hope is that you will love what you do.  You are destined for a life filled with joy and laughter and art.

I am not ready for the next 8 years.  I am not ready for you to like boys, or for boys to like you.  I am not ready for puberty or driving or college.  But I can't stop time.  And it occurs to me that I only have the next 8 years with you under my roof.  I have only 8 years to try and keep you safe and teach you how to make good decisions.  But if the girl you are today, is anything like the young lady you will be in 8 years, I have nothing to worry about.  And I can't wait to meet her!

I love you,

1 comment:

  1. This is a sweet letter that she will treasure. You have such fantastic girls!