While I type this, I'm sitting in the living room. Rosie, you're crawling around the floor, picking up things to put in your mouth and pulling yourself up to stand along the couch. Your big sister is sleeping, but your nap ended early like it usually does, and so the toys are all yours for now.
I've been watching the two of you grow over the summer, not just into your selves, but into each other. Rosie, your first year of life is wrapping up quickly as you, Edie, look forward to celebrating your third birthday with a pink mermaid cake.
You think Rosie needs a mermaid party, too. And she wants to be where you are.
Girls. My daughters. Sisters. You won't remember this phase in your life, the phase when you were so little together and how it felt to be crawling around on the floor of this house that will forever be the backdrop of your life together, the setting of big and quiet moments that will come to define you.
And as much as we, your parents, want to do right by you, more than any of that we want you to do right by one another.
Because Edie and Rosie, to have each other is a gift, one that you will take for granted over and over again throughout your life. Rosie, you'll borrow Edie's favorite sweater and take it off when the sun gets too hot and leave it on the bleachers or the bus. Edie will be mad. You will be sorry.
And you will fight. And it will be a drop in a bucket of annoyances and disagreements about dishes and who fed the dogs and why Rosie read your diary, Edie.
Yes, if you keep a diary, the other will find it. And yes, you will have secrets. But my hope is that if those secrets need to be kept, they will be kept from the world, but not from each other.
But in order for that wish to come true, you, my wild girls, will have to be true, too. Because the world can be scary. I know because I'm big. And as much as I want the hardest thing about my life as your mom to be the constant reminder for you, Edie, to stop hugging your little sister so hard, I know harder problems loom ahead. That's the cost of a life worth living.
And I will tell you over and over in a hundred different ways in my life as your momma that this world is so much easier to face side by side.
Even though I think you've already figured it out.
You proved it to me yesterday, Edie, in your attempt to save Rosie from the loud and terrifying vacuum cleaner, rushing over to her, wrapping your arms around her tight and demanding me to shut the thing off.
"You're scaring my sister!" you yelled at me with a glare across the room.
And my laugh released a little knot in my chest I didn't know I had until that moment.
Dear daughters, you're going to be all right.