My darling girl,
I can hardly believe I'm sitting here writing a letter to my almost-twelve-year-old daughter. Where has the time gone? You're two-thirds of your way through childhood, and getting lovelier to be with every day (and you've always been lovely to be with). I keep thinking there will come a time when you can't possibly get any better than you already are, but that has yet to happen.
This year has been emotionally challenging for you, and for us all, really. As an old soul and an only child, you've found it difficult to tolerate the shenanigans of other children, and the cruelty of middle school cliques. You've exchanged ballet for horseback riding and jiu jitsu, as you've grown into a new era of self-discovery. You've left public school behind and embraced being home schooled, with more appreciate for it than the short stint we tried in spring of 2020, and for your father, who was a wonderful teacher.
I've been noticing a new maturity about you - an ability to deal with the big emotions of life with a little more self-discipline and personal ownership. I see you taking a breath before getting upset or anxious. I see you taking a break when you get overwhelmed with crowds or a lot of stimuli. You're becoming much more able to name your feelings and talk through these emotions, a skill many adults are still struggling to master.
You continue to have a big heart. Of course, your love for animals has never changed and has only grown. It's been wonderful to watch you taking care of the horses at your horseback riding lessons (I think you are happier picking a horse's hoof than doing almost anything else). You've made friends with kids who others might consider "outcasts", and I think that's a noble choice. You feel so much compassion for others, and I see why it upsets you when others don't return the same.
You are amazingly smart - I cannot believe that you understand high school level cellular biology! You can beat me at chess. You are always looking to solve problems and you have a creative mind. Watching you explore more of your theatrical side with Peter Pan this year was such a delight; seeing you bring all that expression and creativity to the stage in a full production made my heart soar.
This year, you've given up having me read to you, and in fact you lock your door at night. I can no longer sneak in and give you a snuggle and a kiss. I suppose that's how it should be - you are growing up, after all. Some days, I wish I could turn back time and rock you in the rocking chair while I sing to you, or pick you up and hold you, or be asked to play pretend with your stuffies. Those moments were all so sweet, and I miss them terribly when I think about the little girl you used to be.
But at the same time, watching you grow into a young lady and seeing what resonates with you, what choices you make, what jokes you tell, what interests you have - that is all such a pleasure as well. I know this upcoming year will be a big one: a new school, new hobbies, new friends. I'm so, so grateful that I get to be your mother. I can't think what I've ever done to deserve such a wonderful child. You my greatest blessing and my joy.
All my love,
Mama
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