Today my daughter Hannah is 23 years old. 23. Twenty.three. I keep typing it and looking at it, with my head cocked a little to the side and trying to make it be real somehow. Because, really, wasn’t this:
Just a few years ago?
In truth that was 22 years ago. She was just over a year old and she loved to go through the house and clean for me. Too bad that stage didn’t last, right?
And here she is now. What a year it’s been since her last birthday! She has graduated from college – summa cum laude, in case you hadn’t heard. She has been to Oxford – she got an A in her class, by the way. She has been to Wales and London and has traveled by herself to Iceland. She has gotten a full time job as a Special Education teacher. As if all of that wasn’t enough, she also has a boyfriend now. (Mama is adjusting.)
To say we are proud would be an understatement. To say that we are so happy to see her thriving and seeing her dreams come true, both professionally and personally, would be the absolute truth.
She is smart and kind, caring and creative, beautiful and silly and my heart just sort of explodes when I think about how much I love her.
Won’t you join me and wish my girlie a happy birthday? Thanks, guys.