It’s hard for me to imagine that I’ve had you in my life for ten years. Everyone told me becoming a mother would change everything, but I don’t think anyone can really prepare you for how your heart grows and your world shrinks in that moment. It’s the best thing in the whole, wide, universe.
In your first ten years, you’ve taught me so much – perhaps more than I taught you – and you’ve grown and changed a lot. As you’ve grown and changed, you’ve helped everyone who loves you to grow and change, too.
On your tenth birthday, I have ten wishes for you.
I wish you laughter and fun, every day. Not every day will be perfect, but there will be perfect moments in every day. Hold those moments close.
I wish you the ability to cherish yourself the way everyone who loves you cherishes you. I think this gets harder for us as we get older but you must always remember: you deserve to be cherished. Don’t forget to love yourself.
I wish you motion and movement, from skating around the rink to running and jumping and climbing on the playground. Movement is healing. Movement is changing. As long as your body lets you, move. It’s a gift.
I wish you adventure – both imagined and real, to teach you and excite you and show you everything this great, big world has to offer.
I wish you snow forts and sand castles, riding your bike too fast, and playing yourself out. Remember: You are never, ever too old for a good, old-fashioned, snow fight.
I wish you team spirit and community, because we’re always better when we’re together. If you haven’t found your community yet, don’t fret. They’re out there.
I wish you the friendships that feel like family. Don’t ever believe the saying “you can’t choose your family”. Family is a choice. Welcome the people who love you with open arms and let your family be about bond and not blood.
I wish you the occasional skinned knee or epic wip eout, earned fairly in a daredevil moment that was exhilarating to the point of being just a little scary (but, oh so much fun).
I wish you hours lost in books or play, when everything around you stops and you’ve been transported to another place.
But more than anything, I wish you all of the love this world has to offer.
You’ve done so much already, in ten very short years. The next ten will go faster for me, I bet, and I know you’ll pack even more accomplishment and awesomeness into them.
Happy Birthday, F.