When we were at Huntington Beach, you asked for a mini photo shoot. As we left the hotel, I grabbed my camera and the cooler to head to the car. I decided to empty the cooler of the water from the melted ice the day before and hollered something about someone grabbing my camera.

I walked off and left the camera bag right there, by our room.

When we got the beach, I panicked because it was nowhere to be found in either car. My dear friend Ashley once said, the best camera is the one you have with you. I called the front desk of our hotel and they put it safely back into our room (thank you Jesus for honest people!). I took out my cell phone and we took a little walk together.

I kept apologizing for forgetting my camera, but you insisted it was absolutely fine.

I keep looking back over our time together. I trip over disappointments and times I wished I had done better. My heart aches when I remember moments that I let slip by, filling them with meaningless somethings. But you throw your arms around my shoulders and remind me that you love me. We didn’t get here by accident. We’ve worked hard to love and like one another despite our differences. We’ve awkwardly fallen into this period where we are mother-friend and adult-daughter. Like everything else in this journey, your smile reminds me that you are my firstborn. My tries and mistakes have  all been exaggerated with you.

I’m trying to catch my breath in these last weeks. I’m trying to smile as I think of how our world will be different without seeing you everyday.

But today I have  a new resolution. Really. I will not let another moment be stolen by sadness or fear.

I will keep running to the finish line. The ribbon is there. It’s right there. I can see it. It’s a beautiful blue pulled tight and ready for you to break through. I can hear our steps changing pace. Mine are slowing down, wishing for more time. Yours are speeding up, so excited to finish.

The next race I will not be running with you. I will not be on the track making sure your shoes or tied or that your water bottle is full. I won’t be keeping your time or making sure your uniform is clean. No my love, I’ll pull up a chair in the green and my heart will beat quickly when you text or call. I’ll look for you when Audrey Assad or Sara Bareilles comes on the radio. I’ll say a little prayer when someone mentions St. Anthony. I’ll whisper your name when I see a beautiful sunset. And I’ll greet you with a bouquet of roses when you finish the next race.

Oh Julia. How thankful I am to be your mother.

This is your time! Find what God has called you to do! Shine, baby, shine!