In August, my decade long anniversary with this blog passed unnoticed by me.
Time is like that, I think.
You watch things and wonder how long it will take you to get something done, or how long before the baby can talk, then walk, then be out of diapers and suddenly you find yourself standing next to a 17 year old woman who is considering colleges and you aren't at all sure how you ended up where you are.
I look at my face in the mirror. I gain weight. I lose weight. I fuss a *ridiculous* amount over my skin care regime and lack of wrinkles.
My hair is developing silver streaks in it but I never notice until I do - a selfie in the right light, or a photo taken of me by my daughter.
I look at the person in that photo and wonder who the hell she is? She does not match my internal vision of myself. She looks older than I feel.
When I read back over the first posts I made here...and then follow some of my writing, I recognize myself in all facets. I make myself laugh - honestly. I read some of my stories and delight in my humor. God, was I witty!
Sometimes I think I was funnier ten years ago. But is that, too, not part of the process?
I don't talk about Emily as much - as is right. At 17, her stories are far more her *own* and far less mine. We intersect, but in a healthy way.
Not unlike the first big separation of self at age 2, the teen to adult one is fraught with similar perils, but writ large and more permanent.
Suffice it to say that I have done what I set out to do in parenting; Raised a person that I like and admire. She is me, without some of the lived-through-shit. As such, she is kinder and more generous in spirit and practice than I. Her path is as clear and shiny as I have been able to make it. Her future is possibility.
Who knows what the next ten years hold?