A Letter to my Wild One: Five and a Half

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My dearest Violet,

This letter is coming to you closer to your half birthday than to your actual birthday, but I guess that’s life with three growing and active kids, right? But truth be told, I’ve been waiting for the exact right moment to write your birthday letter. The words have been swirling around my head, but the stillness I needed to write them and the ability to exactly articulate what to say have been missing.

At five years old, you are something of a conundrum. Most days you are generous and creative, but also hot-tempered and bossy. And sometimes, you manage to be all at once. In this past year, you have burst forth from your babyhood into a real-live girl – one who attends kindergarten! And rides a two-wheeler bike for miles at a time! Who takes piano lessons! Who races at swim meets and plays soccer and does gymnastics! A kid who hikes up steep hills and runs 5K races! A girl with best friends and drop-off playdates! A kid who is starting to sound out blends and words! A girl who loves to walk her puppy and rollerblade around the court! A girl who loves to bake cookies and dance around the kitchen. But, never fear my wild angel, you still love nothing more than a long morning snuggle complete with books (and coffee for me).

This past summer, we took our family vacation to New York. We spent a week playing tourist around NYC – playing in central park, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, taking in the views from the Empire State building and eating all the pizza we could handle. The second week we spent touring upstate New York, spending time in Ithaca, Lake George, and the Catskills.

In Ithaca, we went to Robert Treman State Park to hike up a set of waterfalls. The hike was rugged and wild and beautiful. It was hard, sweaty work, but we laughed and played and took in the magnificence of it all.  At the end of the seven-mile hike, there was a stream-fed natural pool beneath the waterfall – complete with a diving board. One by one, we all took to the diving board to jump into the sixty-something degree water. You were bound and determined to do as your sisters did, and step by step you climbed the ladder. I watched you take tentative steps towards the end of the board, your eyes focused ahead. You stood at the end of the board looking down, and after what seemed to be an agonizingly long ten seconds, you took a deep breath and jumped.

Sometimes in your life, there will be moments when you will need to hold tight to your courage and you will wonder if you enough faith to support you. There will be moments when you will be so filled with awe and joy, you will wonder how to hold it all. And there will moments when you will encounter such loneliness and emptiness, you’ll wonder how to survive it. This does not mean something is wrong with you. This means you are human. My hope for your life, wild one, is that you welcome all three.

Because here’s the honest truth about life: It will not be perfect. It will be messy. It will be chaotic. It will be beautiful. It’s you. Showing up. Shining your light.

This year, at five (and a half!) rotations of the sun, I see you a little different. I see you a little more wild. A little more luminous. More comfortable in your own skin. More accepting of this messy, heart-breaking, hope-drenched life you live.

I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the water in the ocean.

Love,

Momma