Dear Girls,

I confess that I don’t understand you at times. Your moods remind me of my days of youth spent standing on the shore, watching the waves roll in. As the water slipped back to sea, it left behind fat fingers in the sand that sparkled and playfully tickled the soles of my feet, inviting me to come join the colorful shells and silly crabs. I was always left with the feeling of pureness, completely lost in that moment of simple and complete joy. This is the same unclouded awareness I enjoy when I see your smiles, hear your giggles, and feel your little arms wrapped around me.

But waves always return, don’t they? They would race in, stand tall for a split second, then crash down on the sparkly fingers. Foam flew into the air, the crabs skittered away, and the shells were momentarily lost in the turbulent water. I would brace for the impact not out of fear, but out of anticipation. I knew that each wave brought new shells, more glitter, and stronger hands that would grasp the tops of my feet, then my ankles, my shins…

And so my days by the shore would go, much like my days with you pass as well. When I was young, I struggled to understand why I sunk deeper and deeper into the shimmering sand, but I never cared. It made me love the beach even more. Now that I’m in my youth of parenthood, I feel the same. While I brace for the full impact of your more trying emotional crashes, not always being sure what brought them on, I find solace in the knowledge that there’s something magical on the other side. Soon enough, I will see your sparkling smiles and feel your strong little hands wrap around me again, and I will sink deeper in love with you with every wave that rolls my way.