Sixteen. Sweet.

Happy birthday, Jasmine!

Sixteen years ago, you came into the world
and I was there to greet you, hold your
perfect little crying, squirming self.
Along the way, I've held your hand
while walking through the woods or
given you a boost to get up on the
bed, or the horse's back, or
to a higher branch. You borrow things
(sometimes you even ask!) from
closets, drawers, and make-up bags
and even though I fuss (unless you
asked) I'd like to think one reason,
far below the conscious mind, you
want whatever thing it is, is just
because it's mine, and there's a closeness
that you miss from years before
when you were little and I held
your hand. But I'm still here,
sweet girl. Still here. Sixteen is
an accomplishment, a benchmark,
cause for raucous celebration,
journey to adulthood now begun.
But you will always be the first
to bear the name of "grandchild":
grand child who's almost grown,
but not just yet. And I will always,
always, be your Nana who is
full of love for you, no matter what
the age, no matter what the
circumstances that this life might
bring, no matter what, sweet girl.
Sixteen.
Sweet.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014