The Archaeology of My Daughter's Coming of Age

We measured ourselves the other day. I am still taller but only by half an inch. Her hair is longer, swinging like a horse's tail, the signature look of girls her age. She borrows my shoes and, occasionally, even my clothes. I won't let her wear makeup yet, she doesn't need it. She has her father's eyes, her grandmother's cheekbones, and lips all her own. She is, in a word, beautiful. But then again, I am partial. ...more

I never realized how much more growing up I would have to do, to continue to be a parent to ...more