In her twentieth year, she grew more than usual. Not physically, you understand. But inside. Where it counts. She found herself stretched. Challenged.
In her twentieth year, she found reserves of strength she didn’t know she had. Lack of sleep. So many demands. Physically. Emotionally. And day after day she got up and did the next thing. And those who knew her wondered at her.
In her twentieth year, she knew a joy that she could only have imagined. A mystery that had invaded her body. Then invaded her soul. Depths of love that could not have been fathomed. Til she held that wriggling body. Til she saw that wrinkled face.
In her twentieth year, she found herself dreaming different dreams. Dreams that had to take another into account. Dreams that would require fortitude. Dreams sprinkled with fairy dust and glitter.
In her twentieth year, she bought a lot of ruffles and lace. She took a lot of pictures. She spent a great deal of time snuggling. She went to the park and the playground. And she laughed. A lot.
In her twentieth year, she came to understand a love that she would give her life for. And those who saw her couldn’t stop telling her how beautiful she looked. And she was beautiful.
Happy Birthday, dearest Kelsey!! I have never been more proud of you. I love you. Always.