Bridge Crossing

Princess A, I was going to wait till Thursday to write you some heartfelt words of reflection but, I have decided that since tomorrow is officially your final day as a high school student I would tell you what my heart is singing.

Truth is I have been tinkering with my letter to you for about a week. I would type, delete, type again only to delete once more. I had intention of telling you how exciting it has been watching you grow from the tiny helpless, naive being you were to the young adult you are now. I was going to tell you how summers of you riding your bike, with and without training wheels, in your bikini and cowboy boots engraved a spot on my heart. The thought crossed my mind to tell you how you embraced sisterhood always being a role model and taking your place in life as our guinea pig with...well you hardly ever complained when we screwed up on you and fixed the mistake, error with your sisters. I wanted to tell how when you boarded the school bus for that first day of Kindergarten, in Mrs. Bingaman's class--in your dress, with your new white sneakers, your two French braids and a back pack that weighed as much as you did. Maybe I would have told you that it was fun being your Girl Scout leader, laughing with all the girl's as we camped out, sold gads of cookies...

Then I stopped deleted again.

Maybe I should tell you I feel blessed that I was one who could read your heart when friendships weren't going just like you wanted--I gave you shoulder to cry on and my arms to hug you. Somehow, through all the trials and tribulations of teenagehood you came out a stronger more mature young lady.

Would you like for me to reflect on the moments when you felt "trapped" in the car and had to dreadfully indulge me as we had "the talks"?

Perhaps I could I write about how your father and I never wanted you to feel different than anyone else, that we never made issue of the slight flaw God placed upon you. Instead we chose to instill faith as the corner stone of your life. Because of that you have the incredible strength of a spider's silk. No matter how many surgeries you had to have, no matter how many times those surgeries didn't produce the result intended--you just pulled up boot straps and carried on as though eye sight was not laborious. You showed me what a hero is made of.

The idea crossed my mind to write about how it was exciting to watch you go off on your first date, or drive off to school, license in hand, thrilled not to have to ride the bus any longer. Maybe I wanted my words to connote how your fashion was always a statement of Vogue. How Harper's Bizarre fanned across the table always lending hand to a sparkle in your eye (and a drain in both our wallets). How the sound of the flute from behind your bedroom door filled the house with the joy only music can cast. Or the excitement you had when the band won first place in a competition. Parading down Colorado Blvd. in the Rose Parade. What about reflecting on your stellar scholar.

I considered reflecting on all the great trips we have taken as a family. The songs we made you learn so to be a fully rounded music lover--from Patsy Cline to Queen's greatest hits, knowing every word to all those great classic tunes.

To laughing at me and with me. Knowing it was always with love.

No. No that is not what I decided I really want to say. Instead I want to say this, they are the words of Dan [Burns] in Real Life: so instead of asking our young people what are your plans, what do you plan to do with your life. Maybe we should tell them this...plan to be surprised.

The world awaits you Alee Marie. Now go, go and be surprised!

And know...you are loved!