When you have a daughter, I think in the back of your mind, you assume she's going to grow up to be just like you. And then she grows up, and she's not just like you. She's just like her.
She is social, but she's not a butterfly.
She saves her tears, you rarely see them.
She prefers one on one friendships rather than large groups.
She has a closet full of jeans and t-shirts.
She would rather not fit in, than go along with the crowd.
She prefers to sleep in her own bed rather than anywhere else.
She never runs around looking for things because she's neat and orderly.
She's never going to have more friends than she can count like I did.
She's never going to borrow my peep toe leopard pumps.
She's never going to wear her heart on her sleeve like I do.
She's never going to crash on someone's couch after a night out like I did.
She's never going to borrow my make-up bag or my curling iron.
She's not going to go crazy looking for something like I do.
She wore a dress last week for the first time since 8th grade, and she looked absolutely beautiful.
She's not just like me. She's just like her.
She's Amber. And she is perfect.