Hopes

One thing I love about the arrival of fall semester: watching new college freshmen and their parents. Oh, such entertainment! The worry, the excitement, the awkwardness, the happiness, the QUESTIONS. I have to reluctantly admit that watching them occasionally makes me slightly emotional. I sometimes have to blink back a tear or two at the sight of attentive, doting dads hovering about their anxious but excited freshmen daughters. It's all so nostalgic, you see. So reminiscent of when I was the nervous daughter checking in to my apartment complex and my dear dad was the hovering watchman in the corner of the room.

But this year, everywhere I go, I see MOMS. Moms with their teenage daughters. That sight, too, is nostalgic of my days of fledgling independence. But now, from my vantage point behind a stroller and a bobbling curly blond head, the sight is also futuristic. Like a cloudy image from a crystal ball. And it, also, puts a slight catch in my throat. Moms and teenage daughters. Teenage daughters who used to be two year old daughters. What in the world will that be like? What will she, my two-year-old-turned-teenager, be like?

I have a great many hopes...


I hope she will hang on to her intense curiosity about everything...
I hope she will continue to let her creativity run wild...

I hope she will always love to read and learn.

I hope she will truly understand that her greatest beauty lies beneath her clothing, beneath her curly hair, beneath her complexion (clear or otherwise).
I hope she will be nurturing and kind.

I hope she will strengthen and build others up.
I hope she stays silly.
I hope she stays sweet.
I hope she stays clean, head to toe, heart, hands, ...and feet (may as well go with the unintentional rhyme, right?)
I hope she eats her fruits and veggies
And, oh, I hope that she remembers her mom and her dad. And how much they love her. How much they love her.