Teeny, delicate, quiet, adorable and sweet.

That’s who Melissa was when she made her first appearance.

She arrived seven surprising minutes after her sister.

I was expecting her sister, baby number three but number four?

No, I wasn’t expecting her!

And neither were the team of Obstetricians who assured me every time I asked, that there was only one baby in there…..no matter how many limbs I thought I felt!

That was many years ago.

In today’s world, I’d have been given credit for what I thought I was feeling and a quick test would have confirmed that there were in fact, eight limbs in there!

She was the teeniest yet biggest and best surprise of my life.

She was the little one who loved sitting on my lap.

I rocked her and I sang, sometimes Barry Manilow…..“Sweet Melissa, angel of my lifetime,” and sometimes, the Allman Brothers, “the gypsy flies with Sweet Melissa.”

Before she could speak well enough to be really understood, and way before she could read, she knew street names and directions.

She’d stand up on the seat behind me, lean over my shoulder and  proudly called off the names of the streets and knew exactly where I needed to turn.

I never figured that out. 

She was Siri before Siri!

And NO, there weren’t seatbelts at that time if you can imagine that!

She was a sensitive, loving little girl with big denim-blue eyes and ringlet curly, blond hair.  

She was delicate, timid and shy.

She didn’t like scary movies or scary people.    

She was afraid of storms and was able to leap from her bedroom to ours in 3 seconds flat at the first crack of thunder.

I’m not sure there’s anyone on this planet who likes sweets more than Melissa and that’s what made Halloween difficult her first few trick-or-treat years.

In order to fill her bag with treats, there were sometimes horrible monsters on her path.

It took all the courage she could gather, not to turn and run but for candy to be dropped into her bag…..she charged ahead.

She believed in Santa Claus the longest and she still believes in Magic.

She has a gypsy soul.

She was teasable-easy and tears fell when she felt being made fun of.  

She was the first to give-in whenever there was sibling conflict.   

She wants everyone to be happy.

She didn’t and doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.  

Rather than judge, she tries to  WALK A MILE IN THE SHOES of others.

She was spanked once in her entire childhood.  

She was 5 years old.  

She forgot her street-crossing rules, ran in front of a car and caused a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching tire-screeching sound.   

I suppose the scare was enough but I needed to give her a spanking, a practiced and acceptable form of discipline during her childhood.  

I sat on the top porch step, put her over my knees and spanked.  

And I know that my heart hurt way more than her little butt did.   

She loved helping with housework and often commented to her grandmother how lucky she was to live in her own apartment and be able to houseclean whenever she wanted.  

She loved to ride her bike and play school.  

She could sit with girlfriends and their Barbies and play all day.  

I loved hearing the voices coming from the little girls sitting out on the blanket on hot summer days.  

I always thought she’d live with me forever.

Much too afraid to venture out on her own.

I was big-time wrong on that one.

She grew to be a very independent woman and still…..wherever we go, she knows all the streets and tells me where to turn.

I still can’t figure that one out.

I guess she arrived with a built-in GPS.

She was the only one who’d shop with me UNLESS I was going to K-Mart and then never mind.

J.L. Hudson’s? 

She in.  

K-Mart?

No thanks.

She midnight grocery shopped with me.

First a stop at the Peppermill to share a brownie hot fudge sundae and then on to the groceries.

She drove three hours almost every week-end to be with us during the seven years we lived on the Monterey Coast.

We were a week-end threesome.

When she moved to San Diego, she took a bottle of my perfume with her.

She said smelling it made her feel me near. 

She’s a rocker chick, brought up on rock ’n roll music.

She knows the words to every 50’s & 60’s song.

We’ve gone to concerts together.

We’ve vacationed together

She’s very funny and we laugh at the same weird stuff.

We’ve walked, talked, shared deep feelings and secrets.

We’ve laughed and cried together.

She and her husband Mark, lived with us for six months a few years back after they sold their house and were looking for a new one.

There was apprehension times four in the beginning but it didn’t take long for it to all fall into place and work our perfectly.

Never even one negative moment.

Crazy as it may sound…..it was fun.

She’s an old soul and if she weren’t my daughter, I’d still want her to be my friend.  

She calls me her frother; her friend and mother.

She touches me deep and she’s my fraughter.

I see much of me in her…..sometimes I wanna shake her and keep her from all the pittfalls, all the wrong turns I made but I can’t because well…that’s what makes us alike.   

Considerate, loving, caring, compassionate, giving, talented, sweet and  beautiful both inside and out.

She’s kind.

She’s very, very kind.

That’s who Melissa is today.

Once I was her hero and she looked up to me…..I was taller!

Now?

She’s MY hero and she’s the taller one.

I realize this may be a bit over the top but that’s who my sweet daughter is to me.

My hope is that Melissa knows that she touched a part of me that went deeper than any of my words could ever go…..

That she’s been one of the greatest joys of my life…..  

That I’ve always been SO proud of her…..

That I’ve loved every moment of her…..  

And finally, I hope she knows that I will always be with her way beyond forever.