She is also the peace maker - concerned that her brother and I clash so often. She doesn't want to make waves and is tightly-wrapped, always in control. These are not always good qualities, as she tries so hard to not make waves. I am not proud to have contributed to these qualities but hope we can - together - soften the edges in the short time we have left together.
My daughter can do anything she sets her mind to; I have seen this as she has grown. She has pulled herself together when it would have been easier to crumble when she was no longer the focus of her father's attention. She has faced criticism and disbelief to become not only a damned fine percussionist, but a talented marching snare drummer and a two-year drum line section leader. She has a heart of gold and a will of steel.
Two years ago, a rescue dog we were fostering attacked her on a cold Sunday night in February. She calmly called me for help and then begged me not to put him down (I did). We still mourn Sully and we both still carry the physical scars of his final attack. She is strong and she is beautiful and she is committed to helping others, regardless of species.
A year ago, we brought home another rescue boy. Named Jacob Marley for the holiday season, he wiggled and snuggled his way into our hearts. By summer's end, we knew he was here to stay. He sleeps nightly on my daughter's bed, taking up as much or more space than she takes up; he is her special protector, much as Blue protects her brother.
|"A girl and her dog."|