How can it be? How is it possible?

My baby, my daughter, my girl.

She is 18 years old. A young adult. A strong, wise, beautiful, kind, witty, curious, creative, loyal, honest, graceful, self respecting young woman.

I’m so proud. I’m so blessed. I’m so aware that nothing – truly nothing – meant anything before she was born. I thought it did. But the moment she came into this world, into my arms, into my soul I knew that I had never really been fully alive. Awake. Aware. Present.

Present. Yes, such a perfect word because indeed my daughter was a gift. Is a gift. The greatest gift.

And now she’s 18. I’ve managed to walk her through this world for 18 years with joy, hope, music, laughter, art, adventure, conversation, lessons, affection, insight, love.


Or has she walked me?

Perhaps the answer is… we’ve walked each other. Together. Holding hands, never letting go, following the path that sings to us.



18 years of celebrations, candles blown, wishes made. 18 years of watching her.  Oh, how I watch her.

I always say the greatest story I will ever know is being her mom.

Happy birthday, my sweet bunny rose… The world, my world, is a better place because you were born.