Mikayla . . .

In 1996, it snowed on November 27th. It was the day before Thanksgiving. Ask me about the fourteen years in between then and now, and I'll look at you with a blank stare.

I only know all those details because that was the day I became a mother . . . and today she turns fifteen.

(blink. blink.)

I'm in shock.

She's been notifying me of the upcoming celebration for about six months now, and just yesterday she declared that this time next year she will be driving.

Don't worry. I grounded her for such awful talk. I will not hear it in my house. Period.

So, this is officially the year I go into denial and celebrate her dependence.

 Mikayla Kristine, 

In honor of your love for life . . . and to help us remember you today . . . fifteen years from now . . .

Fifteen things you loved in year fifteen . . .

♥  swinging. (rain, sleet, snow or sunshine. winter through fall. you have the resilience of a mailman.)

♥ Cadbury. (no wax allowed in your chocolate.)

♥ learning. (nerd.)

♥ violin. (please learn quickly. ;0)  )

♥ reading.

♥ drama. (We're so proud of you, Miss Casewell.)

♥ cappuccino.

♥ writing. (like writing a letter to a vet on Veteran's Day. all the poor desolate animals thank you for being their voice. I thank you for making me laugh.)

♥ Harry. (Potter.)

♥ Taylor. (Swift.)

♥ music. (it makes swinging so much more fun.)

♥ friends. (somehow you find them all over the country.)

♥ Lady. (but not the Tramp. you've loved her since you were two.)

♥ water. (to drink. like a fish. if fish drink water.)

♥ family. (siblings? parents. cousins. aunts.  uncles. grandparents. you love them all.)

Bummer. I'm trying to figure out how to add your serious addiction to chapstick to the list . . . but that would make sixteen . . . so I'll just wait until next year to mention it . . . ;0)



Happy, Happy Birthday, Mikayla. We love you deeply. You teach us. You surprise us. You make us laugh.

Thank you for being you.

Thank you for being ours.