22

Another New Year’s Day brings with it another birthday for my firstborn. This is the twenty-second birthday we are celebrating together, and I know almost certainly that it will be the last we celebrate while living under the same roof. Contrary to my reputation as a weepy-mama, I am not at all sad about this near-certain development. My girl is no longer a girl. She’ll always be my baby, but she’s all grown up. She’s pursued her educational goals, studied hard and achieved them, decided what kind of job she wanted, applied and interviewed until she was hired as a legal secretary by a law firm in a swanky high rise office in the Esplanade across from the Biltmore Fashion Park, and is continuing to grow as a church musician, singing three masses every Sunday with the Cathedral Choir, Schola and Youth Choir, as well as cantoring at another parish on Saturdays.  All this, and she still not only lovingly puts up with me and my scatterbrained ways, but helps in so many ways around our home and with the children. I love literally everything about the woman she has become and I will miss her fiercely when she moves out. But I’m also looking forward to helping her find her new place and seeing her build her own little world there. It is good. It is time. I am so, so very blessed to be her mom.

Oh, and for the second year in a row, a gorgeous birthday-bouquet of flowers arrived this week for Laurent from a mystery admirer. Very intriguing!