Making Memories
On Saturday, June 18th, we celebrated our older daughter’s landmark birthday. Angie has always been a delight—loving, lively, fun, and feisty, adored by her husband and loved deeply by three young adult children. She is hard-working and admired professionally by her employer’s owners and co-workers.
A family celebration at home was enjoyed with Charcuterie fare (Charcuterie is a term for French cooking that features fun foods such as meat, cheese, nuts, and fruits.) We initiated the beautiful Charcuterie boards Ron handcrafted for my recent birthday gift.
There has never been a time in my conscious memory when I didn’t want to be a mother. I haven’t always done the job well, but I have done the best I knew how to do at any given time. Mothering—and nowadays also being a grandmother—have always been among my very top priorities.
Today’s post includes a slightly-edited article I wrote several years ago, which was published in 2005 in Soul Matters for Mothers – Wisdom & Inspiration for the Most Important Issues of Your Life. I hope you will enjoy!
Today You Are Thirteen
My daughter’s thirteenth birthday approached much too quickly. Despite my reluctance, I was soon to be a teenager’s mom. The mere thought created angst!
“If only we were Jewish,” I moaned to no one in particular, “we could celebrate a bat mitzvah”—that significant rite of passage bridging the often-turbulent chasm separating girl and woman. The special thirteenth birthday blowout I’d planned for my beloved daughter just didn’t seem meaningful enough. Finally, I determined, I’d write a letter to this precious child, whom I knew must begin untying those apron strings sooner than I’d like.
“Dearest Angie,” my letter began. “Today you are thirteen!” The ensuing paragraphs recalled the anticipation and wonder of her birth, the joy I’d felt watching her learn, grown, and blossom into lovely budding womanhood. I expressed fear of being mother to a teenager, a never-before-played role. I cautioned her to make wise choices, so aware that impetuous youthful passions can result in a lifetime of regrets. I wished her a life of lasting love. Carefully, I composed, edited, and typed motherly memories, hopes, and dreams for this elder daughter—joy of my heart.
On the eve of her landmark birthday, I finished the letter and signed it “Mom” with a loopy heart. Very early in the morning I carefully folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, wrote “Happy Birthday, Angie” on the front and quietly taped it to her bedroom door. Angie, with characteristic exuberance, upon discovering the letter, tore it from the door, read it on the run, burst into tears, and hugged me furiously, exclaiming, “Mommmmm, that’s soooo nice!”
Eight years later, I was composing a second “Today you are thirteen” letter—this time to my equally precious younger offspring, Sarah. From birth, Sarah has exhibited a resolute and organized but quiet and gentle temperament. Upon finding her letter, my sleepy-eyed new teen slowly removed it from her bedroom door, carried it to the family room sofa, leisurely curling up in the corner. She neatly opened her birthday letter, Mom looking on in anxious anticipation. Carefully, my daughter digested her mother’s heartfelt, love-filled wishes. Then, slowly, Sarah looked at me, and softly remarked, “That’s nice, Mom.”
Did my letters matter? I wondered. Months later, I realized that Sarah’s had when I noticed the letter among a stack of papers on her desk, a sticky note affixed with her reminder, Read this every year on birthday. A few years later, I was helping Angie organize some linens following the birth of her first child. There lay her letter, neatly placed with other special mementos in the corner of her cedar chest.
How the years slip stealthily into yesterdays! So soon, I found myself a grandmother. New experiences. A new level of love. New memories awaiting!
Blessings on your journey of making memories …
