When we were having our nails done the other day, the guy working overtime on my beat-up gardening hands blushed and said, "You should have had many more daughters."
I get that a lot. And, I must say it's a little disconcerting when men my own age start acting giddy when she walks by.
Today is her birthday.
She had it planned out perfect. So, of course, it's falling apart at the seams.
There is a hard transition when it comes to growing a child. It's the day when a Spiderman Band-Aid doesn't do the trick anymore. The day she's hanging on the end of the phone, in tears, hoping for some wise advice. Most times, I'm making it up as I go along.
Our best talks have always happened in the garden. Flowers, I think, soften most anything. She'd sit in the grass while I was pulling weeds and slowly but surely open up to me about what was causing her pain.
On this day that she is officially an adult, I can only hope that I've done right by her. As right as she's done by me.
Because if she'd never shown up in my life, I'd be some dumb secretary in a crappy office building somewhere. I had no aspirations whatsoever until the nurse brought her into the hospital room and then crabbed at me because we put the diaper on backwards.
I have probably made mistakes. Hopefully, I've also made amends. What I do know is that she is now, and always has been, way more than my girl, my odd clone, and my best friend. She is my one and only lucky charm.
Happy Birthday, L. It will all work out. It always does.
* And, when things get crummy, you still have your Mummy.