Seeing Clearly

In every life, there are events which - when looking back - obviously change a person forever.  They say hindsight is 20/20, and as I look back I realize they're right; in fact, I've never seen anything more clearly.

1985: I'm four years old, walking hand-in-hand with my daddy.  Momma Lady and Hambone lead the way into the roller rink where we're about to attend our first lesson.  Little do I know that I will grow up in this building, visiting it at least three times every week until just after my sixteenth birthday, making lifelong friends and discovering a love for physical activity.  And speed.  Especially speed.  The kind that leaves the boys in my dust with their mouths hanging open in amazement.

1996: On a CB foxhunt with Hambone, I meet a boy.  I'm fifteen, and he is intriguing, edgy and a little bad.  He drives a Camaro and teaches me about rebuilding engines.  He feeds my need for speed by helping me learn to drive cars and ride a motorcycle.  Together, we race headlong into some really scary territory where we really don't belong.  The wind feels great in my hair, right up until we learn what it's like to hit a metaphorical brick wall at 240 mph.  I see now that while all this speed can be fun, it's also dangerous...and maybe not always worth the risk.

2001: I fall into a job, working as a temp at a database management company.  Keeping with the theme of moving fast, I quickly master the skills necessary to do the job.  Over the next eight and a half years, I keep moving fast, advancing through the company and pay grade at breakneck speed.  Out of nowhere, after nearly nine years of service with the company, I'm thrown under the bus.  They need a scapegoat, and they choose me.

2005: After a year and a half of the easiest dating of my life, things fall into place.  I'm not running anymore.  I'm walking hand-in-hand with the man you all know as The Hubbs.  We fit.  There's nothing to run from, so we slow down.

2007: The Hubbs and I ecstatically welcome our third child, the only human kid we have at this point.  The Princess brings joy and light into our lives in ways we never thought possible.

Today: Our girl is six years old.  I can hardly wrap my head around this concept; it feels like she was just born yesterday...but in so many ways, I can't even remember what it was ever like without her.

***

Princess,

I am so proud of you.  Honestly, you have no idea.  Your smile and spunk break my heart and cause me to burst at the seams with pride, all at the same time.  I look at you and wonder how I ever thought anything was important before you existed.  You are absolutely everything to me.

I tell you this every day, and I will continue to do so until I can no longer speak: you are my favorite person in the whole, wide world.  I love you with every fiber of my being, a love so fierce it scares me sometimes.  This is big, Kid.

Thank you for being you.  Thank you for allowing me to witness the incredible, awesome, amazing events that make you you.  I feel so privileged to be a part of your life, and I know I stand up a little bit straighter every day because of you.  Being so near greatness can cause a gal's self-esteem to skyrocket just a little.

You are kind.  You are funny, sweet and caring.  You've taught me so very much more than I could ever hope to teach you, including how to slow down and appreciate the little things...because, in this house, the little things are oh so very big.

Six years ago at 4:43 pm, my world shifted forever.  I stopped to smell the Roses, and - looking back - it's amazingly clear that I've never in my life accomplished anything nearly as awe-inspiring as being Momma to such a very special little girl.

I love you to the moon and back.


Happy, happy birthday, my sweet girl.

~Momma