My daughter turns fifteen today, and I'm not sure what thoughts of reflection or wisdom I have on the occasion. The only real coherent thought that repeats is "HOLY HELL! How did this happen?!"
I'm trying to decide whose age is bothering me the most, her fifteen years or my nearly thirty-eight. Both indicate that time moves forward with no regard to whom it affects. Its unemotional, separate, progressive constancy is completely unaware of us wee little beings and its influence is huge.
My child is fifteen. I am......overwhelmed. I remember the period of her conception like I was just there moments ago. I'm suppose to wrap my mind around her new age? I can't.
I know I'm (currently) the largest contributor to her outlook and development. I pray I'm not irreparably screwing that up. Seeing how she interacts with the world gives me some peace of mind that she's doing ok with me as her mother. I feel proud that I'm raising a good person....she's an amazing person!
It just feels like it's happening too fast. Soon she'll graduate high school. Then college. Off to her first career job. Family and children of her own (if she chooses). And, well, I'm still at the moment when I heard her first wail in this world.
We remember our parents repeating Such statements of disbelief when we were kids; and I don't if it was just me, but I didn't comprehend the weight of them then. Seeing my kid reach a milestone stuns me each time. She'll depend on me less and less and I don't know when I'll be ready to let her leave the cradle of my arms.
Too fast. Just too fast. I guess there is no other choice.
I'll just sigh once again.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, EMMALINE! I love you, Pie.