And then suddenly, unavoidably, miraculously, they are fifteen. The ones who made me a mom, who make me laugh even when I don’t want to, and cry the same way, the ones who make me wish I really did have a 270-degree head turn capability.

In Portuguese, there is a term “mãe coruja” or owl mom which describes a mom’s protective love. They are out adolescent-flapping around now so I am letting them fly (and thankfully not drive yet). It turns out that is one of the hardest things to do.

My gratitude today is for watching them grow up. Happy birthday, Owlets!