on 14 years. . .
A month ago, my last born turned 14. This year of 14 and 17 (for Madeline) feels strange to me. . . they are not milestone years as much as solidly teenage years. I find myself marveling at the passage of time often, of the women they are becoming. . . and how soon they will leave us.
Belle’s fourteenth birthday part was an exercise in elegant restraint. Her friends came for pizza and a movie – every girl in her class packed in our living room. Lots of laughter, lots of shrieking, lots of refills of lemonade and pizza and popcorn. . . and simple details of white and yellow flowers. Chelsea came to help with all the details and David made 14 pizzas.
My favorite moment was when one of her friends had everyone go around the room and mention something that described Annabelle – they spoke of her kindness, her intelligence, her beauty, her creativity. And it warmed my mama heart to know that these girls saw my daughter for who she is and were able to celebrate it with breezy nonchalance. . .
It was a week to celebrate and reflect – on her effervescence, her enthusiasm, her creativity, her determined care of those she loves the most, her flexibility in a year of transition, and the woman she is becoming. . .