Today I sat around a table with friends talking about things that matter and things that do not. I found myself wishing that adult you were there to be a part of our discovery and discussion. It occured to me that you will never have a conversation with me when I am 25, that in many ways you will not know who I am until I have passed through much of what life has to offer me. There is a sense of loss in the fact that in this life you will follow me rather than walk beside me.
Just a few things about myself that may change before you even learn my first name. I research and outline novels that I never write. Your mama cannot make rice for the life of her, not even minute rice. It burns everytime. (On a related note, rice is one of the only things you will eat right now...so bully for me.) I spend a lot of my time reading about dictatorships, imperial design and historical calamaties. Five years from now I hope we are still in this little house with a fenced yard and a swing in the bottle tree for a certain little girl.
Just a few things about myself that will not change, not even when your last name does. I love your Dad. He is the best man I know. I will always want to be a writer when I grow up, even when I am eighty. Be Still, My Soul is my favorite hymn. I love my Heavenly Father. And I love you little Zuzu. Love you so much I would grow you up this instant just so I could know what is going on behind those blue eyes. Would grow you up this very instant if it didn't mean I had let you go even earlier than I already do. (The folly of youth? Twenty years from now I will be wishing I could shrink you down and sing you to sleep.)
At 25, I can already see that bringing you into this world was reason enough for me to be sent here at all. A pretty big revelation for someone that can't figure out how to cook rice. Imagine all the things you will teach me once you can finally talk. Here's to our first conversation.