Please, Just 16 More Years

Friday afternoon I took Miss 16 shopping for a dress for the Homecoming Dance. Part of me was dreading the day. I thought we’d argue over dresses –

that one’s too short…
it’s too long…
it shows too much cleavage…
it’s a turtleneck!

I’m not a prude but I do expect my girls to dress properly (I have a four finger rule in my house – if the shirt goes four fingers width beyond the collar bone, a tank or cami is worn under the shirt). Instead we walked into the store and immediately our hands went for the same dress.

A beautiful knee length taupe dress with gray net overlay and gold embroidery held up by spaghetti straps. It will be worn with a brown shrug and gold sandals.

Miss 16 tried the dress on and I nearly broke down in tears. My baby is all grown up. All of these memories came flooding back:
* The first time I felt her kick
* The first time she called me “Dada”
* The first time she called me “Mama”
* The time I thought she was missing and it turned out she had climbed into the kitchen cabinet and fallen asleep
* The way she took over the care of her brother and sisters when I was sick from radiation therapy

* The time she lost her mind at 12 and I helped her find it again at 13

All of this stuff just filled me up as I sat there watching my daughter twirl in front of the mirror. I wanted to grab her, hold her and beg the Lord to give me 16 more years of her growing up.

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