Roughly 10 years ago, I helped four-year old Abby prep for her first-ever dance pictures, and she left the house in her "Good Ship Lollipop" red-white-and-blue with ringlets in her hair and blush on her still-plump-with-babyhood cheeks. Today, I stood back and watched in the mirror as my 14-year old painstakingly applied her own lipstick. I still got to twist her locks into a low bun --though she had to squat down since she's taller than me and I can no longer see the top of her head-- and carefully paint on the eyeliner, but the lipstick... this time, it was all her.
I held back the emotion that arose in my throat, and we had a pleasant ride to the studio, the photos were snapped, and we headed back out to the car. As I spontaneously flipped my phone to face us to take a selfie, this happened.
I love this girl and I love this moment and I love this picture. She's smart and incredibly witty and kind and I don't think she knows how amazing she truly is because she's also excruciatingly hard on herself.
She's growing up so much more quickly than I ever imagined possible and sometimes I wish we'd been gifted with a pause button to halt these far-too-fast years, but I'm beyond thankful that this girl --the one who belted "The Good Ship Lollipop" and painted her own lips red as I looked on with tears in my heart-- is mine.
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