Oh my dearest Julia. Sometime around November I realized that your childhood is now a gift, tied with a blue satin bow, and released from my heart to yours. I had been wrestling with all of the ‘lasts’.

The last first day of school.

The last Christmas morning.

The last Thanksgiving menu making.

I kept grabbing the beautifully wrapped box back and trying to shove more in.

You’ve been gracious with me as we’ve navigated our year of letting go.

I’ve finally realized that your childhood is now a memory. And that is not something to mourn. It is a piece of art viewed from two different places. I’ve signed the canvas and it’s been hung in a long, beautifully lit hallway. There is a bench for quick stops that bring a smile to your face and a recliner with a quilt next to it for the times you need to snuggle in and remember all of the love.

As the canvas of your childhood was drying, I kept seeing bursts of time right in front of me. I could smell the Denton Farmer’s Market as we walked to the back to pick up sugar cane Dr. Pepper. I could feel the heat of the road as we crossed over to the German place for dinner after ballet practice. I could see you standing in the middle of a little twister on our drive to Arizona. I noticed your smile as you glanced over your shoulder on Main Street at Disneyland. I felt your strong hug when you found me in bed when my grandfather died. I felt the rush of sweetness wash over me when I walked into the kitchen on our anniversary to handmade breakfast menus and streamers. I heard the nightly kiss you gave me on my head as you headed to bed.

Oh my darling, I hope you liked it. I hope your childhood is a precious and gentle reminder of how I love you.