We have a teen and a pre-teen at our house.
We think they're both pretty amazing.
Thoughtful, funny, smart…
Tender, creative, full of heart…

I mean, we've always thought that and they've just spent the past 11-13 years confirming it all.

Somedays, they reveal new stuff.
Accidentally.
And we glimpse not just who they are, but who they're becoming.

Last night my teen and I went together to a memorial service for a classmate of hers who died after 10 courageous years of navigating the craziness of Cancerland. He was way too young, and the hillside was full of middle schoolers holding little white candles and crying openly. It was the most painful and beautiful thing.

And there was my girl, 13 years old and taller than I am, tears streaked down her cheeks, walking right up to Liam's mother afterwards — having never met her before — to say something — I couldn't hear what — and to hug her. And then we drove home, holding hands, and she proceeded to do hours of homework and to bake hotcross buns, of all things, until the wee hours of the morning. 

I have spent most of my life trying to figure out how to hold the good, the bad and the determined in my singular self, and my daughter, less than a third my age, is integrating it all, sage-like. I am pretty much in awe.

Haiku 5
4/5/2012

Hair like a curtain
Hiding from math or from me?
She looks up, moon bright.