Today is my daughter’s birthday. She is, unbelievably, eleven. She is named for her grandmother, and aptly so, as it turns out. My child is bright and driven, loving and compassionate, temperamental and spectacular. A lot like my mother.
I wish that they could have loved each other in person.
I am grateful for my mother’s legacy, both in me and those who knew her…and in this girl.
The picture of my mother was taken by my father on a summer vacation about twenty years ago. The picture of my daughter was taken two weeks ago when she accidentally stepped into the frame. I’m thankful.