She’s ten

 She’s ten.

Double digits.
Tiny hands growing steadier.
A voice that knows what it thinks and isn’t afraid to use it.

Ten feels like less about candles and more about becoming.
More confident.
More curious.
More her.

She still needs me in quiet ways.
A hand to hold in crowded rooms.
A lap when the world feels too loud.
A place to land when her feelings get big.

But she’s also stretching.
Trying.
Learning who she is outside of me while still wanting to come home to me.

Ten is scraped knees and strong opinions.
Sleepovers and secrets.
Wide dreams and tender hearts.

Watching my daughter turn ten feels like standing on the edge of something sacred.
I’m so proud of who she’s becoming.
And so aware of how fast this all is.

Happy ten, my girl.
I’ll always be right here.