An Open Letter to My Daughter on Her 7th Birthday

Bianca—

I’ve spent more time this year thinking about how many crumbs of you and your brother I want to sprinkle across the internet. It doesn’t feel right to give away too much of you, especially when you’re at the in-between age of knowing a little, but not enough to make decisions about important things like the internet and your place within it.

So, I won’t include any photos of you inside this post, even though my camera roll is filled with them. I won’t go into a lot of detail, but I will say that it’s been a difficult school year because you are so strong (and so stubborn). It’s been a confronting year for me in how I care to protect you—or not—how much I want to insert myself—or not—and in how clearly you’re showing me that you’re watching my every move.

This is an important time for us, and I believe I’ve mostly risen to the occasion for you. You are an artist, an athlete, a dancer. You carry inside your body the biggest heart to which I’ve ever borne witness. You are beautiful and smart and kind and worldly. And, as we’ve discussed, being all of those things can sometimes make life hard.

At 6, you navigated the intricate interpersonal relationships of girlhood more surefootedly than I did at 16, or 26, or even 36. You criss-crossed the country, going from Hawaii to New York City in one year’s time. You learned about wild Arizona pigs and new-to-you Sanrio characters. You fought with your brother, got a yellow card from your dad during a soccer game, and danced with me in the kitchen.

You got your ears pierced again, even though you were very scared. You were the best kitty sister to Harry Potter ever, and you creative directed our new book, out today to celebrate us.

You prove, again and again, what a gift you are.

I am so proud to know you, to grow with you, and to be your Ma. 7 is going to be magical, I just know it.

Thank you for all that you are.

I love you,

Ma