Daily, my Miss V wraps here little arms around my neck and softly says into my ear,
“Best friends. We’re best friends, Mommy.”
And we really are.
I know her every fear, her every tear, and almost every thought.
I know her dislikes, her loves,
what makes her mad and what can brush every worry away.
I know her dislikes, her loves,
what makes her mad and what can brush every worry away.
But I also know that she is growing up.
And one day she will be fifteen.
She will have crushes on boys, expensive cell phone plans, and a high school full of friends.
And my only prayer is that at fifteen…and sixteen…and thirty one…
I will still know her every fear, every tear, and almost every thought.
My goal is that then I will have been the kind of mother that
she will still throw her little arms around my neck and softly say,
“Best friends. We are best friends, Mommy.”
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