A decade ago, I sat on a chair by the front door of our new home, busting with life.  From this chair I directed our friends as they moved box after box into this new home.  I had no idea what this decade was going to hold but I knew it would involve bringing you safely into this world, making this house a home, and growing this family.  Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined how blessed I’d be 10 years later.  There has been, in my life, no greater decade than this one.

This decade has seen me grow more than I could ever have imagined.  You helped me do that.  Much like the sea glass that you bring to me, beaming, at the beach, I’ve softened around the edges.  With your help, I’m softer, kinder, patient, and more understanding.  The green sea glass is my favourite, and even though it’s simply the remnants of Heineken bottle, we act like it’s a rare jewel, because you never know.  I hold your find in my hand, turning it over, feeling its softness.  I wonder about the timeline of your treasure; how long has this piece been in the water?  How long as it taken for this piece of shattered glass to become a jewel in my daughter’s eyes?

We were gifted a piano shortly after moving into this house.  Working to create a home, we placed it in the living room.  I decided a long time ago that music would always fill my home. Fuck the TV. I want to dance in the kitchen forever; I grab you as you walk by and sing awkwardly to your friends as they come into the kitchen for water.  I have a photo of you at 18 months climbing this piano.  You were near the top and neither of us were afraid.  Rather than grabbing you and safely placing you back on the carpet, I grabbed the camera, capturing the moment.  It was like I knew I was capturing your tiny spirit in that one simple photo.  You hold no fear.  In that moment you showed me that you could do it and I showed you that I believed in you.  We took this spirit through the decade.  Let’s take it into the next as well.

You’ve made friends with ease, never hesitating to just introduce yourself and asking for what you want from a young age.  Do you want to be my friend? In the last decade this boldness has served you well, take this with you as well.  I’ve liked every single pick you’ve made in the last ten years.  You follow your instinct and chase kindness.  My heart swells with each friend that has entered our home. They sit at my table and I talk to them.  Knowing them and understanding why you choose them helps me to learn you.  As you grow, exploring the neighbourhood now with your friends, I get less time with you but more time to witness your interactions with others.  I couldn’t be prouder.  You are a good friend; each one lucky to have you.

And, at the end of the day as we snuggle having our much-desired girl time you say, without fail, Mom, can I tell you something? To which I reply, Baby, you can tell me anything.  This is our standard question and answer, verbatim every time.  Verbatim, every time.  My goal is that perhaps after a decade my words are so deeply engrained that you’d never hesitate to bring the big stuff to me.  As we move into the next decade, if you take one thing with you, it’s baby, you can tell me anything.

So, on this day, the close of the greatest decade, I feel reflective: I wonder at what point my edges softened? At what point did I become a jewel in your eyes?  The answer: It took time.  It was a slow, and sometimes, painful process.  So slow that I didn’t even see it happening, yet, ten years later, it feels like I could have blinked and missed it.  Every day was busy watching you climb and be bold and every night, exhausted, we snuggled and talked.  We moved this way, as the tide does, every day for the last decade, softening my edges.