In just a few short months Torrie will graduate from college.   In her sorority they ask the parents to write a letter recollecting special events from their lives.  This is my letter to Torrie.

Dear Torrie:

It seems like just yesterday we watched the news of the earthquake in California and you looked up at me -curly hair going every which way and asked  “wha’ happened, mommie?  Wha’ happened?”  Remembering those first words you spoke brings tears to my eyes and leaves me wanting to ask the question, “wha’ happened, Tor Tor?  Wha’ happened?” 

It seems the time has been so short that you have been part of mine and dad’s life but here you are 22, graduating from college and ready to take on the world.

My heart reflects back to the times you and I would lie on the couch on a Sunday afternoon and I would “hold your tummy” until you fell asleep.  It was a necessity for you to take a nap back then as it is now as is evident from all of your Twitter and Facebook posts about “soon being naptime” or “naptime just 4 ½ hours away.”  You always needed your sleep.  Your brother and sister needed you to sleep to get out of their toys.

Even when you were little you had a strong personality.    Before you were two, the baby sitter nicknamed you “the dozer” because you just plowed in and got what you wanted. One time when Taylor was ignoring you, after you had made several attempts to get her attention, you got out of the pool, got a bucket full of water and poured it all over her head.  According to your three year old self, “she was sitting there like a stone” and wouldn’t answer.  I hope she started answering you then.    I guess from a young age you were a force to be reckoned with. 

In second grade, you got a new nickname from your teacher who to this day still refers to you as “Floosy.”   You wore high heeled shoes, dresses and a feather boa to class.  Always the epitome of style, you went dressed up.  Please tell me why I let a second grader wear a feather boa to class. I still have the ballot where you voted for yourself as class favorite in Mrs. Clark’s class.   You also developed the desire to play the fiddle in second grade.  I’m sorry that we were never able to get you fiddle lessons. I know you would have been wonderful at it. 

Who can forget the first evening of fourth grade when we got home from school and started on homework?  Needless to say my patients were thin. Your dad asks, “Torrie, is your mama your teacher this year?”

 Your answer, “my reading teacher.”

 Dad, “oh, I feel sorry for you.”  I hope it wasn’t so bad, but I always had high expectations for you.

 

You were your Grandma Ruth’s pride and I know your heart aches when you think of her.  But your heart shouldn’t ache.  It should rejoice in all the things she taught you.  Remember her teaching you to drive one day and then you coming home and hopping in ole’ blue and driving yourself back to her house.  What were you thinking?  You were twelve!  Her house was three miles away and you had to get on the highway to get there.  Grandma would laugh hysterically when she would tell that story.  Headstrong you were.  Proud she was.  Headstrong-You got it from her.  She loved you so. 

 

Remember the excitement of making the cheerleading squad in seventh grade and the tears we shed the following year.  Your heart was broken. My heart was broken.  I couldn’t bear to see you so wounded and defeated, but you didn’t let it get you down.  You bounced back the following year and became one of the best bases that any flyer could ask for.  You took bruises and bloody noses to make sure that she didn’t hit the ground.  You were the strength!

Your dad would tell you that you are one of the best hands he can find when it comes to doctoring cattle.  I guess he forgot about the B12 shot you gave that one.  You know that one that took two steps after the shot and fell over dead.  That was just one time and it’s funny to remember.  I know dad loves for you to be home and help him on Sunday.  It is a big help for you to be here and know what to do. 

There are so many memories and so many things we shared each with their own special story and grin-Cheerleading, Stingers Basketball, Bobcat basketball, Bobcat softball, Bobcat volleyball, prom dress shopping, homecoming dress shopping complete with Ruby Tuesdays, Chemistry, Chemistry Rant, Blueberries, Softball fields-think hard, your entire senior year…… I could go on and on-

Then there are the memories and smiles I treasure about you that belong only to me.  

I mentioned the words headstrong and strength.  Those are keywords that make you who you are.  Add to them intelligence, beauty, spiritual, hardworking and you have who you are to me.

  So, as to end my letter “wha’ happened, Torrie?         Wha’ happened?” -------------------------------------- You grew up into a marvelous young woman that I cherish and am blessed to call mine. 

 

I Love You Baby Girl,

 

Mom