Where did this gray hair come from?
This isn't the kind of thing that happens every day. One day you're changing diapers and heating bottles full of formula, and the next thing you know, she's turning 21.
Feb. 16, 2005, marked for our eldest daughter, Amy Louise, that pivotal moment in a person's life when they officially become an adult. Well, at least that age when most kids think, "Hey, I can go to a bar now," or "Hey, I can buy booze now." Luckily, I don't believe that was the first thing that went through Amy's mind.
Today I have memories of her being thrilled with her first Valentine's Day flowers at the age of "almost 2" and thought of her walking into the house on High Street -- at about the same age -- and turning the television on to get ready for a Royals game (something a lot of people did back in 1985 and 1986).
I remember how she -- at the age of 5 -- played the role of the "big sis" to the other girls when we made our big move to the Pacific Northwest. I recall how she always liked to play school and to be the teacher, or to play "Boxcar Children" and be the leader of that particular pack of orphans. I can also remember when she walked to the corner of the yard where we had been living in a borrowed tent in Portland and quietly asked the Lord to come into her heart.
I remember when she was turning 10 and how she helped so much around the house while her mom was studying hard to make it through LPN school in Arkansas and how she found a love for music and singing early on in her life. I remember how proud I was when she made the transition from home schooling to public schools here in Marshall and brought home a grade card full of A's.
After all these years and the miles and all the roads we've dragged her down, I guess you'd say Amy is no worse for wear. I must admit, however, that I never noticed myself having even a single gray hair on my head until the morning of February 16, 2005. What a coincidence.
Happy birthday, Sis!