In a handful of days, my oldest daughter will be twenty-one. Wow, that’s a birthday.
When she turned six and I marveled over that, another mother told me all birthdays are big. Six was big, and so was seven, and so on. But 21? That’s an age when her heart’s been broken, more than once, an age when she’s fully left adolescence and crossed over into the realm of adulthood.
The year she turned six, her best girlfriend from down the road walked over wearing a tutu. Snow was falling.
When she turned seven, my friend had made her a piñata with purple and silver sparkles. When the pretty thing broke apart, her baby sister cried.
Twenty-one: now I keep up with the Impeachment hearings to hold up my end of our conversation. Twenty-one: so glad to have you here.
No matter who lives, who dies, the seasons never rest.
Creatures take their turns, and the year turns and turns.
David Budbill, Judevine
Stony Soil Vermont 
You capture it all! How lucky you are to have those specific memories of earlier years. My first born turned 40 this past summer. I know that ‘wow’ of which you speak. Thanks for the Budbill quote- it fits my mood of late just right.
Maybe it’s just a winter mood…. Thanks for reading, as always!
You’re welcome. Thanks for writing! Reading your words is a pleasure I look forward
to each day. 🌻
Its been interesting having a full spread of kids (24, 18,15,11,8) make-believe, chess and legos, first job, college, have a beer and talk motorcycles. All in one day. But adult children are a special gift, a link to the future.
So true, although I never imagined that when my girls were tiny…..
we just celebrated 18. I know the feeling.
Yeah, 18 is beyond huge.