On this day, the first day of spring, my Pascaline turns thirteen.
She is a writer, weaving a magical story in a land far away–typing as fast as she can to keep up with her thoughts for almost an hour a day.
And her sense of fashion…it astounds me. It’s not from me! No, she has always had a deep confidence that is bold, never making excuse or apology for who she is and how she dresses.
She inspires me.
She is an artist with not only words but drawings.
Sometimes she spends two hours working on a single idea for a new dress or finessing the shading to show a figure’s movement.
She is a lover of books, losing herself in Greek mythology, Egyptian mythology and magical fantasy.
She is sunshine.
She is a dancer.
When no one is paying close attention she still skips, turns, and twirls in the sun.
And it’s impossible not to wonder where all the years have gone,
to recall the precious moments from years past when I’ve caught her dancing in the morning light,
to a rhythm that has always been her own.
She is fierce, kind, fiery, determined, and loving.
She walks in a natural confidence I’ve spent my whole life to find.
She speaks her mind freely.
She is quick with wit and sometimes leaves you feeling dizzy.
She is all these things and so many more.
I’ve never known a more beautiful girl that turned thirteen. I simply couldn’t be more proud.
She is my Pascaline.
She is thirteen.
(happy birthday sweetie, mama)