1/23/2018
January 23, 2018 Dear Alta, You had just zipped up your cowgirl boots and you were grabbing your Minnie Mouse backpack when you looked up at me and with a quavering voice said, "Mom?". I knew it was the beginning to a question and so I quit wrestling Elena, sat down on the couch, grateful for a rest with my pregnant belly, and responded, "What's up?". "Mom, I don't want to go to preschool today." "Why don't you want to go?" "I will be all lonely. Making friends is hard, I don't know how to do it. I don't want to play by myself." It broke my heart. Back in the spring of 2014 when we found out that we were expecting you, our first little girl, I sobbed on the way home from the ultrasound. I think your dad thought I was a little crazy when he asked me what was wrong. A look of understanding crossed his face when I told him, though my tears, "What if she doesn't have anyone to sit by at lunch?