Happy Birthday, First Born

She's making progress. My eldest, my heartbreaker, my baby born with the platinum blonde hair, the one who wore a barrette at just ten hours old.

She's got a plan of action for her life, one step at a time, and she's finally make some specific, measurable goals for herself. Baby steps, but my baby is taking them.

It's her nineteenth birthday today, this girl of mine, and I'm having trouble believing nineteen years have passed so quickly, in the measure of a baby's cry. I remember my own nineteenth birthday clearly, as if it were only a few years gone by instead of nearly twenty-one. It was a blue-sky day much like today, and I went to work wearing the new dress my mother had sewn as a birthday gift.

Me as a mother? I settled for buying her a new cellphone and a photo album, but her pleasure wasn't any less than my own had been for receiving the gift of the beautiful dress, so I'll guess I did all right.

Her face looks the same to me as it did those many years ago, cradled in my arms and just getting to know the world. Her eyes are still alert, still watching, still knowing that something wonderful must be waiting out there for her.

She's sprouted her own wings now, but I'd like to have that day nineteen years ago back again, if only for just a few minutes. Just a few.

Happy Birthday, First Baby Girl.