Dear Angie.

Dear Angie //

Dear Angie,

Remember those quiet mornings, that year you kept Quinn home? The decision was both hard and easy, and some days she kept you from work, but other days, others, she gave you the gift of slowing down.

Remember when she begged to wash the dishes, or juice some grapes? How about the mornings she pulled out all the nail polish, or sweetly asked to play house in her room. Those days were precious, weren't they?

I know you were tired, and overwhelmed. I know the quiet of the house would have been a blessing - juggling work and projects and wanting so badly to take care of yourself too. I know some days were rough with her underfoot.

But they were fleeting. Just as the days were you had with the boys, gone, in an instant. They were sucked up by the world of school and sports and activities and the business of growing up.

Now you remember, and I bet you wish to step back to 2015, even if for a bit. To hold that curled up little girl on your lap, inhale the scent of her hair, stealing kisses while she purrs.

That surprise of a third child did more to mend your broken pieces than you may have realized. Make sure you thank her, no matter where she is or what she may be up to. No matter the sass or angst of finding her own wings, give her a good squeeze and tell her you appreciate her.

I know those days were laced with grief and anxiety, but I also know they were filled to the brim with goodness. With bits of healing and growth. I know you knew that, but I just wanted to remind you: you did okay.

Hang on, the ride is crazy, but it's so, so, good.

Future Ang