Dear Maya,

Good morning, Your Highness.  You woke up as a six year old for the first time this morning.  And, you brightened this day as you have brightened the last 2,190.



You, my love, are bold.  There is absolutely nothing you won't try (although you would prefer it didn't mess your hair up and required all the right accessories).

You, mi amor, are light.  Sometimes a headlight from an oncoming semi, sometimes a lamplight leading me home, but always a spotlight on what is important.

You, my baby, are hilarious.  "Mama, why is it snowing?"  "I don't know, mija, I thought you were in charge of that."  "No, I'm only the boss of you!".

You, mi princesa, are smart.  Way ahead of the kindergarten reading level that most of your classmates are on, you read me your sisters' books and practice math problems in the car for fun.

You, my life, are ornery.  "Whatcha doin, Maya?"  "Nothing, but you look beautiful today.  Don't go in my room.  You smell nice.  I didn't do what's in there.  I like that shirt.  Eva did it."

You, mi vida, are beauty.  Outside, yes, you are spectacular.  But, inside, is where it comes from.  You are filled with goodness and sparkles and a pillow of love.



Maya, you came at a difficult time and made it worth it.  With your big, brown eyes, you made me see the glitter at the bottom of my almost empty heart.  You keep me on my toes, even if it's just to give you a place to stand while we dance.  And, for the last six years, you have shown me that the struggle is worth the trophy at the end.  I love you in all the ways you can only love someone who critiques your shoe choice and makes you chase them to retrieve your bra from their jelly covered hands.  That is to say, I love you as I could only love you.

Always,

Mama