Happy 21

This is a post brought forward from the past because so many of you are looking for those birthday letters.

Dear Granddaughter,

The Facebook posts and emails are flying. It is a celebration of you. Our son can’t believe he is the father of a 21-year-old. Your mother is remembering driving you home from the birthing center. It all reminds me of being there and helping you arrive.

Such joy!

I have the same joy each time I see you or hear your voice. Chatting with you makes me giddy with happiness. I cherish the tidbits about your love life, your work, your school, your adventures in living. Hearing it all gives me such faith in who you are.

It’s strange to hear you acknowledge your adulthood rather than to defend it. It’s rewarding to sense your growing confidence in making decisions for yourself. It used to be all bravado. It is morphing into a true sense of yourself.

Twenty-one years old. It is a milestone. It is a measuring mark. It is a time of reflection.

I laughed with you over your application of the theory of cell regeneration. Yes. Every seven years, and you are beginning anew right now. (Of course, I had to play the cautionary Grammy and remind you not to destroy all of your brain cells on the first day of your next seven years:)

I love you, my dear. I realize that my job is to love you. And I love my job.

I glory in your successes. I weep with your sorrows. I recognize and acknowledge your failures and know that you are ever learning. I love being your confidante, your cheerleader, your counselor, your listening ear…your Grandmother.

Happy Birthday to my grown-up girl.



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