Sixteen, Unsweetened

I don’t remember my sixteenth birthday.  I’m sure there was laughter, food, fun, and a lot of love from those I am blessed to know.  But there was no big coming-of-age gala in a ballroom with a three-tiered cake, I’ll tell you that much.  Nothing to rival the pomp and circumstance of a quinceañera or a cotillion.  An event of that sort would have required me to spend a Saturday afternoon begrudgingly trying on a lineup of dresses covered in sequins or lace or both – some early 90’s level of frill that was far outside my comfort zone.  No pearlized balloons in bunches carefully placed around the room nor a princess-like punch bowl fountain to accentuate the space. That wasn’t my style. A party like that would not have suited a girl like me.

The other day we were having a conversation, your dad, Isaiah, and I.  As your birthday approached we were wondering aloud about who you would be at sixteen.  What traits would mark your personality? What kind of books would you like to read? Would you even enjoy reading?  Would you be a math and science whiz, a musician, an animal lover, an outdoor explorer? What places would you long to see, what ideas or experiences would inspire you?  

The conversation made me realize how little I know about you.  I don’t know how you would have chosen to celebrate your birthday.  I don’t know your style or mannerisms, what would suit a girl like you.  I can’t even guess at what type of friends you would have or what passions you would pursue.  Your dad asked me if it bothered me to not know the answers to these questions and I said no, but I was wrong.  It’s confounding to love you as much as I do, to feel as close to you as when you were within me, and yet not know you at all.  I can lose myself in thoughts about your long curly hair or what an awesome girl skater you’d be, but in reality I don’t know these traits as truth.  And no amount of guessing, wishing, or dreaming, can change that while I’m here on this side of heaven without you.

It’s different now.  I don’t think much anymore about what it would have been like to hold you and coo as mothers of infants do.  I don’t imagine pushing you on the swings or teaching you how to ride a bike. Maybe it’s because your brother has matured.  He and I have these amazing conversations and moments of heart connection now, human to human. Maybe that’s why my thoughts are more centered on how it would feel to share moments like that with you.

He’s almost fourteen himself you know, that precocious and quick-witted brother of yours.  He’s fiercely independent but still asks me to tuck him in every night. He’s often loud and unabashed but also kind hearted with thoughts that run deeper than he understands.  He loves you and misses you in a way that’s different from the way I do. I honor that. In fact Dad and I are heading out on our own for the day to celebrate you this year.  Zaya will be hanging out with Grandpa before joining his dudes at the youth group barbecue.  I’m glad.  He deserves the time and space to be who God has created him to be and to celebrate you in a way that suits the young man he is.

There’s not much more I can say that hasn’t already been said again and again, year after year.  I don’t have to know the answers to the wonderings of my heart to love you the way I do. I don’t need a sign in the colors of a rainbow or the flutter of butterfly wings to know that you’re with me.  You’re always with me.  As much as I miss you and sometimes wish that I knew more about who you might have been, what I do know is so much bigger.  You are mine.  You’ve changed and inspired me.  I am beyond blessed to be Mom to a sixteen-year-old you today.

Happy Birthday Elena, my shining light.