Dear Kenya, (a letter to my daughter)

You are seventeen. It seems unreal.

I love how you are learning to inhabit your life, with all its complexities. I love your play, your wisdom, your strength, and your sensitivity. I love the way you are with your brothers, the way you love them and test them.

You are finding the best ways to fit into your life, a little like sewing yourself your own garment with whatever textures or patches you want, making sure the pockets are big enough. You throw things away when you need to, collect treasures, and you always find ways to savor experiences and moments. You make a nest and settle into the comfort, the beauty of the day.

This is what I mean by inhabiting your life, your world— you walk in a space that can be left alone or touched, you are sitting in your own circle of light, God with you, caring for you, and from this place you find and offer deep treasures.

You find a café and try it out.

You say yes to many things, especially new adventures.

You love the small dramas of animals.

You find more and more things to learn.

You write your own story, and you do not forget the stories of others, of those who have gone before you.

You take Solomon out to sketch with you, knowing he needs the encouragement and the company.

I love the moments I have collected, moments of seeing you: You on your motorbike, traveling to take care of cats, or visiting hotsprings, taking unknown roads. Daughter of our hearts in a hug sandwich with your dad and I, or singing with Leafy, letting Isaac sit under your desk when he needs a place to rest, laughing with Kai.

We love you so much.

I will always be here to be your house,

Mama

…

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