Miss M’s Birthday Dreams❤️

What a whirlwind birthday weekend—chock full of everything an about to be ten-year-old could ever wish for…

A starry-eyed Miss M seemed to be walking on air Friday as she sprinted to my car, keen on reaching Providence ASAP. Assorted Harry Potter garb in tow, we were en route to meet her BFF who was whisking her away to the Wizard Springtime Market, a weekend brimming with Magick, Mystery, Potions, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies.

Barely skipping a beat after returning Sunday, she donned her riding boots and breeches, beelining for the back seat of my car, BFF in tow. Her beloved pony, Westchester, awaited. Little did we know his hooves were now glittered and his mane was braided with brightly-hued ribbons for the birthday festivities!

 Katydid Farm hit the ball completely out of the park. Miss M’s riding instructor openheartedly welcomed us for an afternoon filled with carrot feeding, gator riding, grooming instruction and the ultimate highlight, horseback riding.

 

But wait, the party did not end there. Papai and his girlfriend were home diligently prepping for a Brazilian birthday barbecue bash! Teeming with delectable treats, dog petting stations and family and friends from near and far, Miss M’s birthday weekend truly was a dream come true.

But there was one last thing our magical girl desired. The presence of her beloved Mamãe…

So on the actual day she turned double digits, Papai and I gave her one final gift—the one I promised her mother I would give her every year —the one from her mother.

This year’s gift included a report Terri wrote when she was eleven about her trip to Australia, a bag she bought from Lockwood with a funky map of Astoria on it, two of Terri’s t-shirts and a bright green sweatshirt that now fit Miss M, and a journal Terri started for Miss M in the last few months of her life.

As I watched Miss M lovingly turning the pages, savoring every single tender word, my heart stretched to make space for the painful beauty that is inherent in her grief story.

Driving home, tears falling, I realized that by leaning into her mother’s story, she continues to come home to her own…

WIth Love,

Auntie L