Dearest Ariadne,
The truth is, I’ve avoided writing this letter, because I knew it would make me cry. Not bad tears, not sad ones — just mama tears. That combination of love and pride and joy and nostalgia that makes mama hearts swell. The tears of being so proud and so in love with our children that we feel our hearts will burst, just looking at our children, doing something innocuous, mundane — eating soft serve, ice cream dribbling down chins, chasing fireflies at dusk, just a laugh — the purest, most joyful laugh.