None of that has been true for me.
When I think back on this day, it feels like an eternity ago.
Buddy took that picture when Audrey was four hours old. Do you see that smile? It's real. She came out, she smiled at us, and then she faded back into a distant infant cloud and didn't peek through it again until she was about six weeks old.
But she came out and in those first hours she smiled at us. First order of business.
Tonight we'll celebrate her 13th birthday with a few of her closest friends. We're either going to be at the mall or else I'm taking the girls to a restaurant for a nice dinner. It's hard to say right now.
Because we haven't decided yet.
Because the party is still 10 hours away.
And because she is my daughter.
If each day is a grain of sand, I am feeling the weight of this one in my palm. So heavy.
I don't know why.
I wish I knew where I'm going with this post. I wanted it to be a touching tribute to my daughter and her debut into the world as a teenager.
And now it's about me and sand. Sand? Seriously, sand? Where did the sand come from?
I wanted this post to be funny and independent and radiant and smart, like Audrey.
But, I can't seem to make it cooperate.
Aren't you asking yourself right now what my point is? Because I sure am.
Can I tell you something? About a year ago, when she hugged me the top of her head used to fit right under my chin. It doesn't anymore. The top of her head is level with my mouth now. Every morning I hug her and I push her head back down, hoping I can somehow get it to fit under my chin. But it never does. It doesn't cooperate any better than this post does.
It seems to have a mind of its own. Non-plussed by what I want. It is writing itself.
And it occurs to me that I have no choice but to let it go out into the world....
A few minutes ago I was the author of this blog.
And now, I am just the one who's going to hit that little orange box in the top corner that says "Publish".