Twelve years ago yesterday, Violet made her way into the world. I'm supposed to say I remember it like it was yesterday, but, though 12 years isn't much in the grand scheme of things, in many ways it feels like it happened so long ago.
The details have become fuzzy over time. One thing I do remember is that she was a nine-to-five baby; I took Jenny to the hospital around nine in the morning, and Violet was born fiveish in the evening. At the time, I wondered if this was a sign that my daughter would grow up to a model of punctuality and orderliness. She has yet to manifest those qualities, but, of course, there's still a lot of growing up to be done.
Now that she's on the cusp of becoming a young woman, old mannerisms, old ways of saying things, old types of behavior -- some endearing, some vexing -- have fallen away, and new ones seem to come up, then die away, every week. She's in a constant state of becoming. She asserts her independence in new ways, and just when I think she's pulled away from me for good, she surprises me by some gesture that indicates she still needs and wants the comfort of my presence. In the midst of all this change, I'm grateful that we've always been close, and I hope and pray that, as the years roll on, that doesn't change.
Where's it all headed? I don't exactly know (who does?) But I do know that the girl who was born twelve years ago yesterday is one of the most interesting people I've met: bright, imaginative, good-natured, and full of infinite promise. So, wherever she's headed, I intend to tag along to find out. Happy birthday, Violet. Let's be companions on this journey, as much as we can.
