Wildflowers Press

It’s hard to imagine you ever being this small. All seven pounds and fourteen ounces of you. Blonde peach fuzz and bright blue eyes. And you grew. And so did your appetite. Your nose turned orange from all the Gerber sweet potatoes you inhaled. You swallowed your dad’s wedding band when he left it on the side of the tub. We got it back a week later at a Halloween birthday party at a friend’s house. You’ve never been afraid to bite off more than you can chew.

Snuggly and warm, you clung to me.  In those early years, I was your compass.  You looked to me for a smile, reassurance in an overwhelming world.  And I clung to you too – especially the morning of 9/11. You didn’t understand my fear or tears after returning from a dog walk on the levee that morning. But you gave me the gift of laughter in a time when I wasn’t sure anything would be okay again.

Time passed and you kept growing. You’d run to me, arms out, after school, a huge smile on your face as you told me about your adventures at Little Gate with Ms. Paula.  You presented incredible works of art over the years and did a mean impersonation of Annie Oakley, brandishing your toy pistol as your blonde braids whipped around, dangerous and hilarious. 

You’ve always had a sense of who you were, even as a toddler.  Fiesty and determined, you’d practice on the stairs, perfecting your steps up and steps down.  You fell in love with riding before you even sat on a horse.  And then there was Dandy – the best quarter horse ever.  She taught you balance and persistence and that blue was your favorite color.  

Over the past twenty-three years, I’ve seen you blossom into the young woman you inhabit today.  You’ve gone from spunky toddler to strong-willed schoolgirl who insisted on dressing up as Clifford, The Big Red Dog, for a Halloween-in-July party – despite soaring temperatures and heat rash.  And you loved nothing more than travel. Over the years, you always dared to dream big – following your curiosity to places like New Zealand, South Africa and Croatia– any excuse to see the world, even taking a class on the Geography of Surfing in Nicaragua. Brilliant!

Last year you set your eyes on the Middle East, after an intensive examination of the conflict during graduate school. You wanted to see Jordan – and spent Christmas 2023 camped in the desert with a guide, a camel, and a friend. (Thank you Meghan!)

An hour ago, we left you at the New Orleans International Airport. One big backpack with sneakers clipped to the outside and a small daypack, water bottle hanging off, attached to your chest. Your excitement bubbled up as you told us about the first thing you planned when you landed in Hanoi – in two days. “I’m finding pho and dumplings and eating my way through the city.” You’ve scrimped and saved for the past two years – maybe longer – living on ramen, goldfish and boxed wine as you finished your Master’s program. Now it’s time to gorge and live a little.

You’re leaving the nest – at least for the next six months.  I’m not prepared. I was used to your sporadic calls or texts – filling us in on your life in Colorado – international studies, psychology, and criminology classes. Weekends spent hiking or exploring different parts of the west: the Grand Canyon and Zion.

You thought I was crazy when I gave you a smooth disk of bloodstone – a variety of chalcedony, splattered with bright red, hence the name.  This stone is known for protection. It symbolizes courage, and strength.  Maybe this is all hocus pocus, but it’s something small I can give you – a sort of talisman…in times of trouble or duress – (which you’ll have… that’s the nature of exploration and travel)…  maybe this little disk will provide comfort when you need it.  

You can always call.  We’d love to hear about what you’re experiencing. And we can offer advice if things get rough. We already miss you, but we got your back if you need us.

Anna, you’ve always been brave, and likely a little too fearless. That’s youth and that’s you. There are people who will look after you. There are guardian angels in this world. Sometimes all it takes is asking for help when you need it.  I’m glad you never feared talking to strangers.  

For this journey, you’re going to need strangers.  You’ll have to rely on people you don’t know – to give you good information, safe places to visit.  Of course, you’ll also come across less trustworthy sorts.  Trust your gut.  You know that feeling that says, “Maybe, I should turn around.  Maybe this person isn’t good.”  Listen to that instinct.  It’s there and saved me from a few hairy situations during my travels. 

But most of all – Enjoy the New – all of it: Volcanoes and mountain hikes, whale sharks, street food (Imodium is your friend), ocean swims, birds – so many birds, fellow travelers, new friends, sunrises illuminating ancient temples, chicken busses, beachside hostels, motorcycle tours…

Enjoy the New!

Love Mom