Several decades ago, I remember waking up and thinking, "today I'm a decade old."
I distinctly remember thinking that word, decade, and I'd like to think it made me feel more sophisticated about growing older. Who was I kidding, I knew next to nothing about sophistication at ten years old.
What I do know is that there was a sense of importance attached to the event, like turning a decade old was somehow important in the relative smallness of the-child-I-was-then's life. For reasons I still can't understand, it was a milestone of sorts.
Today my daughter reaches that milestone.
And suddenly I feel decades older than my usual decades...but I'm happy.
I love you, my Noni, my Noni (there's a certain inflection or tone there that only her mommy is capable of accomplishing, and she loves it).
Happy 10th birthday, my darling.