Twelfth Night and a New Year

This blog is sparkly and new and I realize I have fallen down on the job by omitting a grand and exciting HAPPY NEW YEAR message… will a “Happy Twelfth Night!” do?  No?  Hmpf.  Picky.

I have a doctor’s note and everything.  A 7 day migraine extravaganza.  It was very exciting, I assure you.

Meanwhile, my daughter turned fourteen.

Nothing prepares you for this moment in motherhood.  Your baby girl is a budding young woman.  It takes your breath away.  You are proud and you cry just watching her make toast.

Well, I do.

There she stood, in the kitchen, by the toaster oven.  And I was leaning against the counter, listening to her talk about things, and looking at her.

REALLY looking at her.

My God.  When did it happen?  When did she become a young woman?  I looked at her in her fragile woman’s frame, soft and unaware, just the beginnings.  But it’s the end of the child.  That’s when I started to cry.


Soggy toast never hurt anyone.


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