The Road to Six.

Grace,

It's bound to happen. Someone looks you up and down and has a sentence or two about what you're like, who they think you are. I nod and agree. They're partially right. But they don't know you like we do. How could they possibly? I look at the ground and six years flash by and feel like a thousand. The gap in your teeth, the smell of your little girl sweat, your smiling eyes, the click of your heels.

These little things and you are what make me a mother.

Now you stretch to the middle of my ribcage. That's how tall you are. Your belly that was once so two-years-old, so full and round, has formed into a girly waist.

You are kind and thoughtful. You remember everything about people. You are interested in the moon.

There are times when our minds wrestle each other for control. Sometimes you win, sometimes I do. You come to me when you're afraid. Sometimes you cry like a baby. You rely on me for gentle comfort. I hang onto your hugs for seconds longer than you ever want to. And you let me.

This year, your birthday falls on a day when your Great-Grandfather is very ill. He is a great man and has given you a family that loves you very much. One that I am privileged to have married into. This time of life is a blunt reminder of how quickly it flies.

You have shot up from the ground, into the sky and I struggle to keep up. You're six, and stunningly beautiful. You'll always be my first love. My very first fist full of warmth and love. My heart-opener. I'll never forget it.

Happy Birthday.