I adore your loquaciousness. True, I like peace quiet now and again however, I admit when you are not talking I grow concerned. For often times with the talking, what usually inevitably follows is that beatific smile. A really good talk-fest yields not only the beatific smile but also that snort filled guffaw. That? Love. It.
From the very beginning, dear daughter you've been a talker. Your very early mutterings weren't discernible to anyone but you, but talking you did. All. The. Time. I won't lie and say that it was always a joyful noise, but there was much joy to be had. Having you for a daughter has been a treat, and to be frank, an un-expected treasure trove of yum. I didn't know I wanted a daughter until you decided to gift me with the quintessential daughter. My, my only daughter.
Granted, we have had some trials. At least two of your teen years had my intestines twisted beyond their normal configuration. Your leaving to live with your father broke my heart, but I realized it was something you needed to do, an experience you needed to have. The move very likely saved the both of us for very different reasons.
We've survived that time. We are here to tell the tale.
The woman I see shaping before my eyes very nearly mirrors the the young woman I wish I'd been. You have a sense of self, bravado, and gumption (most of the time) that I lacked in my early twenties. You know very much who you are and what you want. I know that with diligence, fortitude, and hard work you will get to where you want to be.
You possess and flash a wisdom that beyond your years. You also possess a joyful playfulness that speaks to the exuberant child that lives within your heart. You exude life and all the glory, joy, pain, ups and downs that is life, the kaleidoscope.
The many faces of Danielle are etched forever and beyond on my mind, in my heart, and throughout my soul. Keep on smiling (and talking) my daughter, my friend.