It's happened: Avery is a teenager. Yesterday was the big day, and I must say I scrutinized her closely this afternoon when she returned from school, and dare I say it? She's just the same. Lovely and loyal, friendly and steadfast, entertaining and intelligent, altogether someone we are thoroughly proud to call our own.
We spent the afternoon at Fortnum and Mason for ice cream, then a friend came home with her to do homework (outrageously, the school staff did not honor her birthday by withholding any assignments), then the requested birthday dinner: creamy red pepper soup, and rigatoni with a sauce of tomatoes, ricotta and pine nuts. Presents galore, mostly books! And charms for her bracelet, and a gorgeous velvet skirt from my parents... today a lovely outfit arrived from my sister and her family, so she's thoroughly kitted out now, in appropriately festive, 13-year-old-friendly wear.
I spent all day yesterday in my usual Avery-birthday fog. I remembered all day where I was 13 years ago, desperately walking the island of Manhattan, trying to get used to labor pains and avoiding the hospital like it was the seventh circle of hell (it came pretty close, eventually). Finally picking up that suitcase with one tiny outfit and my toothbrush and toothpaste in it, and bringing her home the very next day with guests for dinner! How lucky we feel to have her. Thank you, dear girl, and here's to another warm and wonderful year together.
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