I remember when she was three. She confidently navigated the world with boundless energy, curls bouncing, so sure of herself. So sure of me. Those were the days when she orbited around me like I was the sun, and she was never too far from the safety of my warmth. We were tethered by our love for each other, by what we saw in each other, by a belief that we were a match made in the heavenly realms.
Not every moment was peaceful, of course. We fought our battles against each other. We tested each other’s will. We pushed hard against the ties that bound us, yet we always fell back together – little blonde iron-willed daughter and her equally iron-willed mother, loved, loving, making loads of mistakes, and forgiving. We both learned so much.
She grew, and we entered those precious middle years, when kids become the sweetest version of themselves. She proved a continual source of joy and laughter, bringing optimism and unique perspectives to every situation. I also watched her grow in the knowledge of Christ.
