Dear Aimee,

Five. When did you grow up? I’ll look through photographs of when you fit in my arms and wonder where all the time went. I remember when you struggled to communicate your needs, and now you regale me of tales that you invented in your dreams.

My sweet daughter . . . in my eyes, you will always be the one who made me a mother. You taught me to love deeper, wider, and farther than I ever imagined I could. You stretched my heart to cover places where I didn’t even know I needed your love.

I thank God this year, and every year, that I have the privilege of knowing you and loving you. When I turned five, I began to retain memories — memories that I hold to this day, as an adult. I remember the pink and purple dress I always wore. I remember the feeling of your grandmother pulling taut the strands of my hair when she puzzled them into braids. I remember feeling shame when I couldn’t nap at school, and I was supposed to. I would stay awake and peek my eyes open at the other kids around me, in deep slumber, and wonder how they did it?

I pray that the memories you keep and hold onto into adulthood are ones of joy, happiness, bright & lovely moments of feeling so confidently — like the unbridled assurance that your next breath will come, that you are loved.

I love you, Aimee.
Happy Birthday.

Love,
Mommy

• 

• 

• 

• 

---