When she was born I made a big sign that said WELCOME HOME and wore a button of her picture on my dress to first grade every day for a week.

When she was three (or four?) I put her on a bicycle and pushed her down a hill. I thought that would help her learn how to ride.

When she was five I stuck her in a soccer goal, told her to get ready and kicked the ball. She caught it….with her face.

When she was six I told her we found her in a field. I also told her the Big Bad Wolf lived in our closet.

When she was nine she cried when she hugged me and told me she didn’t want me to go to Australia.

When she was 12 we hugged each other and cried when I left for college, and again when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.

When she was 15 I cried when I heard her sing “At Last”. Heart stoppingly beautiful.

She was 16 when she dyed her hair pink, then green, then blue.

She’s 17 now. And she’s coming to visit me tomorrow.

Yay!