Twelve years old. And you know that all I can think of is back to when she was diagnosed at age 6. When I sat there in the hospital room, wishing her to be better and to be well, I thought of this day, when she would turn 12.
I thought, 'When she's 12, she will have had diabetes for half her life.'
Half her life.
That's where we sit right now, splitting the hair between the time she hasn't had diabetes and the time she has. And it turns. And it won't turn back. She will never in her life have less time having diabetes than she is alive. Maybe it shouldn't bother me so. Maybe it's just a milestone I need to work through. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's all just a wash.
It is her birthday, the day we celebrate her very being. 12. On the cusp of being a teen. Taller. Smarter. Glass-ier. More thoughtful. More able. Independent.
She is all of those things and more. She's OK with her diabetes. She hates her diabetes. She thinks it's lucky she has it, because if she wouldn't have had it, how would she have ever met Lily? She thinks it's the worst thing in the world, and curses the very day she was diagnosed. Yeah, she's 12.
She's awesome. She rocks. She's got a sense of humor that will bring you to your knees. (Good girl, it will carry you far, being able to laugh at yourself, your situation and what happens around you.) She loves books and bikes, dances and swimming, hairstyles, makeup and glitter.
She is the glitter, I want to tell her.
Happy 12th Birthday, Grace.