Dear Eva,

On the morning you turn eleven, I am sipping coffee and procrastinating.  You've already eaten your breakfast (4 courses, a new record for you) and bounded off to pajama day at school.  Class treats in hand and with the promise of our lunch date, you shouted "I love you!" as the car door closed in your wake.  I should be assembling your cake or starting your guacamole or picking up the house for your guests.  But I opened a picture album to find you on your first birthday.  So now I sit astounded at how far you've come since being covered in blue frosting and strapped into a high chair your tiny legs barely dangled from.

Who knew that, while you sleepily chewed through your first pound of sugar, you would grow into such a devoted lover of all things except pink and K State?  When you were lugging that giant red ball through our tiny yard, I could never have predicted that you would spend the next decade in perpetual motion slowed (though never fully stopped) only by sleep and nachos.  I remember you spent your whole party clinging to me, quietly begging the family assembled in our little living room to get the hell out of your house.  Tucked under my arm, my sweet round eyed girl craved the anonymity that we thought could only come with being a little sister... Years later we realized there's a more quiet place to hide - as the middle girl.

You, my love, are hopeful and brave.  You conquer fears and inspire goals.  You are the first plan I ever made that exceeded itself before my eyes.  You challenge and you change.  You love with complete abandon and you proudly wear the love you earn in the width of your grin.

I am your quiet, you are my wild.

I love you, sunshine.

Always, 

Mama

To you three

To the people who one day sweep my girls off their feet,

I wish I knew you now.  I'd really love to stalk your school recess or sit in the back of your band concerts.  I'd like to sit behind you in middle school Language Arts and see what you scribble in the margins.  I want to know you, while you're still innocent and open, and have a hand in guiding you down the right roads.  Because I worry that, before your path intersects with my girl's highway (or rose petal strewn red carpet - depending on who chooses you), you will make too many wrong turns to recognize the prize you win at the end.

My girl.

Whichever one you claim as yours, you will be getting the dream of a mother who just wanted more for them.  You will be the benefactor of every belief I struggled with and every moment of pride she inspires.  You are one of the luckiest three people on earth, and on this warm February afternoon twenty years too early - you have no idea.

The woman who will love you won't be easy, but I hope to not make her impenetrable.  She will know of my doubts in love, but I promise to let her believe.  While I will never tell her stories of happily ever after, ever after will always be her plan.  The woman heading toward you will be, if I have my way, mostly light with only slivers of shadow.  She will be strong without overbearing.  Cautious but never afraid.  Gentle with you but moreso with herself.

Or maybe she won't.

Because the woman you will one day sweep off of her feet is, at this moment, a girl with her mama's eyes but her very own spirit.  If you watched her at recess you'd see that she is equal parts shy and headstrong.  If you played the trombone in her jazz band, you'd already know that she has a laugh that makes the room grow - and a sense of humor that is completely her own.  If you tried to sit beside her in Language Arts, you would quickly discover that she cannot sit still nor be consumed with your affections.

Oh, sweet boy (or girl), the hand you will one day hold used to fit into my palm with room to grow.  So, please hear me when I say:  I would warn you now if I could.  She will be an extraordinary woman when you find her.  Just be patient with her heart.  If it's guarded, that's my fault.  If it is one day yours, that's her choice.  Be a good choice.  

And I promise to try to remember that you used to play on swings and sing off-key.  I promise to be exactly as soft on you as you are for her.  I swear to give you exactly one less chance than she does.  The best I can do is my daughter - the best you can do should hope to equal that.

Sincerely,

Her mama.