At Seventeen

No stalling on writing your birthday post Rebecca. I know you’ll watch for it all day long. You read what I write. You stalk your birthday posts like they might reveal a secret. But, there’s no secret in your birthday posts–just what you ought to know anyway, mostly that I love you fiercely.

But now you are seventeen. Seventeen is the age when  Janis Ian runs through my head. (At Seventeen–Janis Ian–great song–but sort of depressing)

So, seventeen years ago you were born (best labor experience) at Sacred Heart hospital. You’ve always had a sacred heart. You’ve always held a sacred part of my heart as well.

What can I say about this past year? You continued to be incredibly intense about EVERYTHING. Activities! People! Drama! More activities! Though the activity part seems to have dropped a smidgen this fall. I hope it continues because I really like to see you, talk to you. Of course, the activities slowed but your intense school schedule makes up for it. AP classes all over…as a Junior.

You had a super busy summer–England. Brown. Touring colleges and then a trip to Canada with school.

Now you are the oldest child at home. I think you never thought that day was coming with so many years of being the almost youngest.

Mostly today when I think of you, I think of you watching Schoolhouse Rock over and over again this fall. It makes me smile. The fact that your upcoming test on the Constitution made me flip my phone to Schoolhouse Rock. Your delight over it. It reminds me of a lot of things–of the no matter how much growing up you have done and how much you look like an adult–you still have more to grow, more to learn from your mama, and you are still the little girl whose laugh melts me. I suspect that no matter how much growing up you do, you will always be that girl who can melt me with her laugh.

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