19 times.
More than 19 times.
19 years I’ve had to tell you that I love you.
That I’m proud of you.

19 years that I was afraid of you.
Afraid I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.
That I wouldn’t be all that was asked of me. That I would mess things up.
19 times.

Each moment of time, each annual moment that I reflect back I can see where I made these things wrong, and then right, and then exact in the exact time you wished and hoped they’d be right the first time.
And here we are this time – after 19 times, we’re here looking and what you’ll make of the next 19 times.

I was tasked and asked to take you home,
and out,
and around,
and through, and near,
and there, and far, and here –
to a different place and a newer space,
and sometimes those moments are erased
far beyond what you’ll remember from 19 times ago.
But I remember.

I taught you to walk. But you taught me to love.
I taught you to talk. But you taught me to shove my own selfishness away and beyond what I thought I knew I wanted for what I was given instead –
A daughter who raised me, in unknown waters to tread.

I must have done something good.
And I must have done something right.
I’m still in disbelief we’re celebrating 19 times tonight.
19 years – of tears, and laughter, and fears, and cheers.

There once was a girl, where a woman now stands.
There once was a child, where an adult now plans and plants her own hopes and chances and romances, and glances down a new path of memories and times.

19 times.
More than 19 times.
19 years I’ve had to tell you that I love you.
That I’m proud of you.

— c ☆