The Seventh Year

Kate,

In a few days, you’ll turn eight. You’re having a skating party with your friends, and your dad and I have a few surprises up our sleeves. But before we get there, I want to stop and remember the year you were seven.

For about a month, you were a Star Wars fan.

You gave that up pretty quickly, and just yesterday you made your brother cry by asking him if the Yoda on his shirt was Darth Vader – you insisted you didn’t know the difference.

You gave softball a shot, but decided your love was swimming.

It was your third swim season, but this was the year it clicked for you. After standing on the block in tears the first time you had to swim the butterfly at a meet, you discovered that it was actually your best – and favorite – stroke. Your coach watched you swim and said “It looks like we’ve got a butterfly-er on our hands!” You won more “personal best” ribbons than you did “first place” ones, but the most important thing you won was the Gator Award at the end of the season, given to you for sportsmanship, attitude, and just being an all around great kid.

You and I did a lot of fun things together this year, just the two of us. We got pedicures one day.

We went to see the Beach Boys.

We painted pottery.

We did lots of fun things as a family, too, like taking a vacation to Michigan, where you and your dad bought vintage cowboy boots.

You started second grade.

You were a good friend, and a loving and protective sister.

You also found your second sport – basketball. I know we’re not supposed to live out our dreams in our children, but I can’t tell you how happy it made me to see you learn to love to play. You practiced, worked hard, and learned so much.

This year, you sat me and your dad down and told us your suspicions that Santa wasn’t real. You were sad for a moment when we told you the truth, and then you quickly started to think about how you could be in on making holidays fun for Sam.

You grew up a lot this year, Kate. Not all of it has been easy for you. You’re so smart and mature that your dad and I often expect too much from you, and sometimes it’s hard being the older sister. But I hope you will always know that you are the most important thing in the entire world to us.

I love you, Kate. More than everything put together.