All around the house, scatter pieces of your dream come true. Photos clipped carefully from magazines of hairstyles and shoes and flowers. I see now how this dream sustained you these past two years, while you endured it here, in this temporary place with your mommy, this place that you had long outgrown. But you endured lovingly, so gracefully - bringing home tea and Diet Pepsi and butterfly mugs to make the sipping special. I'm drinking my morning coffee out of the blue one; I always tried to give you the pink one when I poured yours, did you know that? Still giving you the pink cup, 25 years nonstop. How I love you, my little girl, all grown up. It is your time, Bird, finally, your turn. I look at all the spaces where your things are propped up waiting for you to take them. You deserve your own space. Your own alters.
The day after your wedding, I felt so tender, sore all around my heart that at the same time leaped with joy for the two of you. I have a friend who cannot understand, how I could feel anything but pure happiness, but it's ok, I know I am allowed to feel a little sad. We humans are complex creatures and life is rarely all or nothing. I will miss you so much, but oh how much light you and your big, loving, laughing man give off. How you belong together.
It's a familiar feeling I have right now. Much like those early days after I gave birth to you. Feeling so very feminine, with a tender, secret ache. Bliss was tempered with the ending of having you all to myself - knowing that I had to share you with the rest of the world, and knowing that the rest of the world didn't, couldn't ever love you as much as I do. But guess what, Bird? I think your laughing man might, I think he just might, and there is immeasurable relief in that. I gave you away when you said, " I do" on a perfect day at water's edge. But your happiness, your happiness was worth it.