The Night Before My Daughter’s 13th Birthday

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

If I could do it all again, I would—every blooming bit of it. Every bout of pink eye, every snotty nose, every late night waking, every single reading of Good Night Moon, every fairy house, every drive to every ballet class, every singalong to the entire soundtrack of Hamilton, every wobble and stumble and blunder and lapse to arrive at this very moment when we lie on her bed in the dark and talk about this miracle, this astonishing life, and watch dumb videos and curl into each other. In every moment, a seed. It surprises me now, how beautiful the field.