By Eve Bell

I’m a sentimental mum.

I would cry at the smallest passage of time as your brother grew.

Losing of his baby teeth.

Going up a vest size would leave me sobbing.

Birthdays would leave me emotional.

But not with you.

Watching you grow has been joyous.

You leap into each stage of new independence.

Always with caution but desperate for the new things it teaches you.

I always worried about the teenage years.

Maybe that caused the sentimentality.

‘Don’t grow up, it’s a trap’ as the memes say, rang in my head.

You worry a lot but teach me not to worry.

You know the edges of your comfort zone.

And will wander beyond it.

But on your own terms.

And your boundaries.

My teenage self watches on in awe.

You are balance personified.

Brave and anxious.

A homebird and a social butterfly.

Simple and complex.

Carefree and organised.

You are like water that flows and always finds its place.

Watching you flow, evolve and transform into a young woman is something I never take for granted.

You are my greatest teacher.

I’ve developed the greatest of negotiation skills.

You have taught me to never stop playing.

And always find a way to laugh.

You care for people’s feelings so deeply.

But never at the expense of your own.

Always be you.

As if you wouldn’t.

Happy Fourteen my girl.

I love you so.