Dearest Helen,
You are graduating from high school in two days and I am feeling all the feels. Your brothers will be in motion, coming home to Vermont today, from Lake Tahoe and Portland, Maine.
I am really, really, really feeling everything.
Nineteen years ago when I found out I was having a girl I was … well, I pretended to be neutral, ambivalent, because I was actually scared. Having been a girl my entire life, having suffered the many different kinds of slings and arrows the world throws at girls and women, I was worried about raising a girl.
I had already learned how to handle boys, mostly, since your brothers had arrived almost a decade earlier. You were the last gasp, the final thought, the general idea, do we want a kid? in my marriage to your dad.
You slipped the surly bonds of the spirit realm and came crashing down into our lives on a very cold January morning. You got a little stuck in there somewhere, but eventually arrived into this world at a time when they were renovating the maternity ward at the hospital in Burlington. Challenges right from the start.
I could write this letter forever, but there is a lot to do to prepare for our celebration of you, so let me see if I can Reader’s Digest this:
Infancy: You screamed through every single car ride, throwing up a lot and making anyone traveling with you insane. You refused to allow me to be more than five inches away from you when you slept. Our beloved Linda Ryan gave me respite every time she arrived with her book and yogurt and loved you as only a true mom can do.
Toddlerhood: The boys, Sam and Nate became your everything. You were strong and sturdy right from the start, walking, swimming, tossing a ball, always playful, always game. You refused to allow me to be more than five inches away from you when you slept.
Childhood: You met Ellie and Caroline, who remain your friends to this day. You showed a curious interest in fashion and make-up, which might be true of most little girls, but you seemed to be morphing into your nicknamesake, Coco. When we discovered that Coco Chanel died on January 10, the day you were born, it gave us all the chills. One year your entire Christmas list to Santa consisted of fashion items you designed, complete with correct material choices. You were funny. You were always very funny. You still refused to sleep by yourself.
Later childhood. A blur. There were lots of changes in our lives. You weathered it. Into early teen years. You not only weathered, you successfully brokered a deal for yourself that allowed you to attend the high school of your choice. Oh right, and you got yourself onto a competitive cooking show on the Food Network. And when you were there you finished the first round early and helped the girl next to you who was floundering.
Let me repeat that: on a very well-known nationally-televised competitive cooking show, one that you had spent six months intensively preparing for, you helped a fellow competitor.
We all knew you were special, but that moment was when the world found that out, too.
Teenage years: I was scared, scared approaching these treacherous waters. I had heard so many horror stories from moms of girls. But you and I … we made it, we did it. We fought, then we laughed at just how dumb we were. We hugged and kissed. You became my Taco Belle and I your Smothered Burrito. I went through menopause while you entered womanhood. I watched you become more graceful and smarter and stronger. Once, when you got back from your favorite place on earth, Martha’s Vineyard, you were in the kitchen and you were ravenous. You said, “I need to gain some weight,” which was hilarious and amazing and I breathed a deep, deep sigh of relief then, knowing it meant that you loved your body, you loved yourself in ways so many of us girls and women were not able to. Somehow you made it around the hell of eating disorders and were squarely grounded in your own skin. You absolutely refused to allow me to snuggle with you in bed, which made me sad and also I got it. I totally got it.
You were and are a strong skier, so graceful. A beautiful swimmer, a mermaid in her beloved sea. You took up horseback riding and did it beautifully. You tried the golf team and the lacrosse team and the tennis team. And every time you made it fun. You never took any of it too seriously. You found your tribe, strong, funny, smart young women like you. And then your first beau.
We have loved and binged all the good shows together: The Office, Parks + Rec, Gilmore Girls, Arrested Development. Your sense of humor is on point.
You are still a style icon and you can chef it up any time you want in the kitchen. The minute you got your driver’s license and a car you drove away, in a snow storm in January. You are at home on the streets of New York and in the rural environment in which you grew up. You have held jobs and volunteered in your community. You are gentle and sweet when the situation calls for it; you are all Boss Lady when you need to be.
You decided no college next year. You’re moving across the country later this summer to try life in Lake Tahoe with Sam. It’s a great idea. I’d do it too, if I could.
You won a scholarship the other night. The description said that you demonstrated the Irish tradition of hospitality, compassion and commitment to community. That you are competitive but her main goal is broad success--individual accolades are not as important.
That Coco is known as a young woman with humble confidence and a great sense of humor.
Your tennis team won their semi-finals match last night. You’re headed to the finals.
You will graduate from high school on Friday.
You will move west in August.
My heart will be broken. My heart will be bursting with joy and pride.
Middle Kids sing it well:
You are my golden star.
Everything I do comes back to you, somehow
Don't have to go that far
To see you burning up the sky
You are the sweeping tide
Wash away the stuff that doesn't come to life
You rise when you like
Never when I think and only when it's right.
Nineteen years ago I was worried.
Now I know what an incredible waste of energy that was.
You are kind, you are funny, you are smart, you are strong. I’m not making any of this up. You are a hard worker, you care about other people, you are real and true and honest. And I want to be just like you when I grow up.
I love you,
Mamma
more memories flood in, tears and warm hugs. Beautiful. Auntie J
A wonderful tribute to a young lady who is loved. I enjoyed reading about Helen. I have great hopes for her in today's world. She knows how to hold her own. Her future will be bright and beautiful and most assuredly it will be Helen's Way.