So I’m sitting in the physical therapy gym with my eldest child. And a million thoughts are flying through my head.
My daughter is barely 15 and taller than me! Ok so I’m pretty short, but still, it’s weird. It wasn’t that long ago I was carrying her on my hip, now our hips bump into each other as we walk side by side. That’s rather amusing at times, honestly.
Everywhere we go, people stare. But I can’t blame them. My child is stunning. Not only is she gorgeous, she’s a bit exotic. How did an Irish woman birth an olive skinned beauty?! How did this average woman create such an extraordinary young lady?
Over the years I’ve teased her about not really being mine. It’s all jokes, people, and she knows it! But I have made up stories about adopting her from Russia or finding her in a dumpster. I even had a made up Russian name! It’s been hilarious for over a decade!!
Truth is, though, I’m so glad she’s mine. Regardless of how I got her, she’s mine. And I do believe that if I hadn’t been blessed with her as my daughter, I would choose her as my friend.
She’s funny, kind, charismatic, and loving. She’s a million wonderful things wrapped up in a beautiful package.
And until the right man comes along and snags her up, this girl is mine!