A Half Decade in the Making

Olivia Ellen.

Livvy.

Liv.

Livvy Lu.

Lu lu.

Tinkerbell.

Today, I write for you. 

Today, my precious girl, you turned five years old. 

Tonight...you fell asleep in my lap, and now that the celebrating is done...my emotions rush in and the tears well up. 

You are not my first child to turn five.  You will not be my last.  Yet, today strikes a special place in my heart because I look at you and see how grown up you have become in your little self. 

I see how this has happened in the blink of an eye.

And I feel proud and out of control and happy and sad all at once.

It's hard to articulate why I feel that your infancy, toddlerhood and preschool years have fled by so quickly.  I suspect it is partly because you hit every milestone long before you were supposed to and I never had to worry that you wouldn't.  I am guessing it is partly because we live a life that has slightly more chaos than some, and the idiosyncrasies fill up any time voids that might have been possible otherwise.  I know it is partly because you are wise.  Not just book smart, but wise about the world, its people, and your place in it.  Sometimes, I see that you are wiser than you should be at your age.  Though that has made you sassy and sometimes hard to "outparent," it has also made you very perceptive and insightful and caring. 

We are so much the same that it sometimes frightens me.  You are sassy.  You won't take no for an answer.  You have passion that is sometimes untamed.  You love to get your hands into things and create. Yet, I see you with qualities that I have only hoped to have, and for this, I know you will be a better person than I could ever be.  Keep that sweet and salty edge, Livvy.  Never stop standing up for what you believe.  Keep making your mark on the world.  Paint it your own color, even if nobody but you thinks it matches.

And keep that compassion.  At five years of age, you read people.  You tap into feelings.  You know how to make a moment better, a day brighter.

Keep that spirit of living in the moment.  You have forfeited zoo trips for the sake of lopping along to physical therapy.  You have traded Disney World for Detroit.  You have proudly taken on the role of being an older sister and given up more undivided attention.  Yet, you find excitement in every adventure and a reason to love the moments not for where they are or what they are,  but who they are with. 

Keep that adaptable nature.  You are the fourth-born, yet the second-born, yet you often have taken the role of the first-born.  This identity crisis would give anyone a sense of instability, but you remain a rock, comfortable in your skin and oblivious to the fact that...well...things are different sometimes.  Different, but not worse.

I love your creativity.  Your imagination.  Your story lines.  Your knack for art.  I love watching you create a very lengthy and involved plot-line with a one-inch plastic teddy bear and a rubber band.  I love your hugs.  Reading just one more and one more and one more book every night.  I love snuggling up with you on the couch.  

I love you.

I love that tonight, when you feel asleep in my lap, you still were clutching Bunny tightly....and I love that you were sucking your thumb even though the pediatrician probably wouldn't....because it reminds me that you are still my little girl. 

Never stray too far away, sweet girl.