It always sneaks up on me. Especially since moving to Texas. The weather doesn’t change as quickly, it’s not typically cold, so it doesn’t always register in my brain and heart how close we are to December.
This week though, two of my friends have had daughters turn 12. Seeing pictures show up in my Facebook and Instagram feed of these beautiful young women took my breath away. One saw Hunger Games on opening night with her Mom. Another had a Karaoke party with her friends. Seeing pictures and videos of how big 12 really is just gets me. Every.single.time.
I wish I was planning a 12th birthday party for my girl. Trying hard to figure out how to make her birthday different than Christmas.
Today I came across a folder I haven’t seen in years. It has ultrasound pictures, papers from visits to the pediatrician, receipts from visits with the next scheduled visit written on it. I noticed the last receipt had the date of September 8 at 10 am. I wonder who canceled that appointment? Was it her amazing pediatrician?
I see these papers and am almost instantly transported back to that time. I can almost feel her weight against my chest, smell her hair, hear her laugh.
But then I am brought right back to the moment by the sounds of the monitor as Zachary sleeps, Elliott talking to me non-stop, and the clock ticking indicating the big kids will be home from school soon.
The big kids. Something she will never be.
All the things she will never be and should have been.
It’s just that time of year.
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