21 And Your Mother No Longer Makes Your Bed

So today is the "Day the Music Died," according to Don McLean's song about the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and a few others, but more importantly to me and my family, it's D2's 21st birthday. I'm so absurdly blessed in my life, and having D2 and D1, and who they are as people, is the foundation for much of those blessings... Ah, pre Andrew 1992. I remember it well. Dr. Eric and Dana were in town from Boston, with one year old Jennifer. Eric's folks Marvin and Norma threw a party for their only grandchild, in the back of their Kendale house. Wifey was literally bursting -- 2 weeks past her due date. D1 was an adorable 3 year old, running around with Jennifer, and eating cake and being earnest. We used to call her the very earnest toddler -- though sweet and cute -- she always went about things with an underlying seriousness... The party was Sunday afternoon, and Monday am I took Wifey to South Miami Hospital, where Debbie Kenward performed an easy baby-ectomy, as I called it. D2 came forth -- huge, due to the extra 2 weeks of baking. Years later, in grade school, all the 2nd graders compared their birthweights. D2 came home and announced she was the biggest! We brought D1 to the hospital room, where I was holding D2. She immediately went to her, kissed her on the head, and lisped "She's my thithter." And so began one of the great sibling relationships I know. At first, D2 was D1's play accessory, and then an annoyance to the "big girls" trying to go about the serious business of putting on fantasy shows in our house. And then later, when D1 was in high school and D2 in Middle, I think D1 realized that she had a way cool sister -- easily popular -- but with a kind and caring heart. Now, despite their many differences, they're best friends --which gives Wifey and me great pride and joy. When D2 was 6 months old, Hurricane Andrew came and destroyed our house around us, as we ran to the car in the garage to seek shelter from the collapsing ceilings. D1 told everyone afterward that our house was "MISstroyed," which I always thought was a better word... Despite the calamity, D2 survived, and prospered. She sailed through pre school, and was known as the rebel. By elementary school she was gifted and popular. She partied a bit in Middle School, and had great friends --some of whom veered off course. But by high school D2 hit the books, and kept an amazing grade average. She sailed into the ultra competitive UF, and now is nearly 3/4 done with college. Last night she went out with friends -- one of them has the same birthday but is 2 years older, and a limo took them to a Downtown Gville restaurant. Monday there's a party at her house. Wifey and I fly to Gville in 2 weeks -- so we'll extend the celebration a fortnight. Like me, D2 is in her junior year not sure what she wants to do after graduation. Unlike me, she's seen 21 with a father who is, thankfully, alive and there to counsel her. So happy 21, my a (pause) mazing daughter. I love you so. It's great to be here with you.