Tuesday, July 10, 2007
TODAY, my sweet Ashley stepped through puberty’s door and joined the ranks of women before her. She awoke this morning with a smile and a secret and seemed suddenly no longer a child. She held her head a little higher, and the look in her eyes told me she understood life would now be different. TODAY is special.
TODAY I would like to call those doctors who told me she would never walk, never communicate, and should be institutionalized. TODAY I would like to contact all the school personnel who preferred to keep her segregated in a small room and refused her inclusion with the rest of the children. TODAY I want to tell everyone that spoke so certainly of her limitations that they were wrong. TODAY I want to re-introduce this beautiful and special woman that is my daughter to the world, and dare them to ever again impose limits on her.
TODAY is a day of celebration. TODAY we will enjoy chocolate and chips. We will cry over silly things, and we will long for closeness one minute and need space the very next minute. TODAY Ashley takes another step in the forward direction of her life, and woe be to anyone who tries to trip her up. You have been warned.