(This is the outfit my baby girl was wearing when I met her-she wore it home on the plane.)
I have always told my Older Daughter she was born to fly. Our beginning together was marked by flight-I picked her up in Texas and flew her home to Boston with me. A tiny, premature baby, at 9 weeks she was the size of a newborn: just under 8 pounds. She was a star traveler. We took a 10-seat plane from her little home town, made a connection in Dallas, our connecting flight was delayed, we were on the road for more than 12 hours. She never cried.
And such has been her life-she has traveled all over the world, with me and without me, and has loved every second. She is organized, optimistic, and hopeful in her approach to each of life's adventures. When I took her to London for five days when she was six, she packed her own suitcase, and didn't forget a thing.
She called on Wednesday. I was having a difficult day until I heard her high, excited voice chirping over the phone. "Mommy? I won't be in New England for winter next year." I knew what that meant, but I played along. "You won't, Sweetie? Why not?" "Because I'll be in Paris!" She is spending her entire Junior year studying in Paris. While I will miss her more than I can even express, I am so happy for her. She is a person for whom life's doors have burst open with the help of her own determination and good will.
I'm proud of you, OD. You have worked hard for this opportunity, and you deserve it.