She's a force of nature

My dearest Evelyn, 

I have been working hard at playing catch-up these past few months: churning out our yearly photo books from six years ago, writing birthday letters, and completing a hearty spring cleaning. We have long since celebrated your ninth birthday and have moved into the planning of the tenth birthday mother-daughter trip. The beautiful spring weather has begun, and I am trying to squeeze this letter in before we move into the chaos of May. 

At nine years old, you are a solid mixture of sweet and sass, and most days you manage to be both at the same time. You are affectionate and charming, temperamental, independent, imaginative, our social butterfly, and have a flair for the dramatic. You love roller-blading walks and bike rides - especially if it involves a ride to Ulta Beauty and Starbucks. You love pasta, chocolate croissants, and anything covered in maple syrup. You play on a soccer team in the fall, take ballet lessons and tap classes year-round and I have you tagged as my future cross-country runner. You love your piano lessons, especially when they involve Taylor Swift songs, and have taken up the trumpet this year. You know the lyrics to all the songs of Six: The Musical with alarming accuracy. You have fallen deep in the Harry Potter books and cried when Dumbledore died. You are a card shark. You love all animals, but horses most of all. You adorn your face with glittery eye shadow and love to wear fake nails and high-heeled shoes. There is no other way to explain it: you are a force of nature. 

When I was a child, I was a Miss Piggy fan. I had her comforter on my bed, and probably watched The Muppets Take Manhatten three dozen times. Miss Piggy was meant to be a minor character, but eventually developed into a central one. She has a capricious nature, and combat skills, and felt destined for stardom. She wears long gloves and is a mistress of the martial arts. I loved Miss Piggy - whether she was breaking free of her rope restraints to take down a human goon squad and rescue Kermit or prying apart her prison cell bars and stealing a motorcycle. I think this is what I have always loved about her: her penchant for beating up bad guys while wearing pink satin. Miss Piggy broke the stereotypes - she is fierce and discriminating, independent, yet tender, all wearing pearls. She is a force of nature.

My grandmother, Beverly, my father's mother, was the epitome of femininity, poise, and sophistication - just don't make her angry. She stood her ground, stated her opinions, and always did so with perfectly coiffed hair and ruby-red lips. She was an only child growing up in New York during the age of skyscrapers, jazz, and prohibition. She was college-educated during the Great Depression. She raised her three boys during the Golden Age, but she wasn't much of a seamstress or a cook. She was slender and fair-skinned, yet headstrong with a loud voice. As a child, we would come home from work and school to find her weeding the city gardens wearing kitten heels and her wrap dress. There is no better way to describe her: She was a force of nature. 

Oftentimes, being considered a force of nature, means having a strong personality. This is not always a positive attribution. But, in truth, both Miss Piggy and your great-grandmother represent a wild, voracious sort of freedom. They remind us that our bodies can be loved exactly as they are, they can be objects of beauty, can be powerful and strong, and can carry us through life as the heroines of our own stories. So, my dear girl, as you move solidly into your tween years, do not be afraid to take up space. Personal style begins and ends with loving who you are. Take it from Miss Piggy and your Great-Grandmother, nothing else is possible without being confident in yourself first. 

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

Love, Mommy