Today is my daughter’s birthday. She is 28. When I was 28, the concept of another baby was just forming in my mind. I had an adorable three year old son that took up more time than I had in a day — what would I do with another one. What would another one be like? What would another one look like? What would another one represent to me? The “what’s” took over and she became a reality.

Did she look like I thought? No. I was expecting a mimime. Sort of short/tall, stocky in built, brunette. Instead she is tall, lean, with the most gorgeous head of strawberry blond curly hair I have ever seen.

Did she act like I thought? No. Again, I was thinking something quiet and subdued. She is not. She is outgoing, animated, and driven.

Did I figure out what to do with her? Yep. I protected her from rough, brotherly play. I taught her as best as I knew how. I loved her for what she was and in spite of what she wasn’t.

What does she represent to me? A family complete. I see much of myself in her — some I like, some I don’t. I see much of what I wanted to be in her. I admire her spunk and I worry over her vulnerability. She represents the future to me, the carrying on of our family — a link so to speak. As time marches on and roles are reversing, I see a little heroine in the making. She will always be my child but she is so much more than that — she is strong and honest and faithful and I am so thankful that God sent her to me.

She doesn’t want a cake for her birthday, she wants brownies. So, brownies she will have.

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