Dear Evita,

I think this is the first letter since you’ve been born that has been late. On the day I usually write this, we were still in Jamaica soaking up the sun and splashing in the warm ocean. You were back in your element, and my heart was so happy for you. Almost every day since we’ve returned, you’ve asked to go to the beach. And every time you do, it’s like a knife pierces my heart. You’re too young to understand why we can’t go or why we have to live in a place so far away from one. But your father and I have promised you that within a year from now, you’ll be on your way to living on the ocean again. That’s the life we had growing up, and it’s the life we want for you. No matter what it takes, it will happen.

The good news is that you’ve taken to the Fall in Northern Virginia so far. The weather has been beautiful and we’ve been spending as much time as possible outside before the cold comes. You love crunching around in the leaves and picking up the pretty ones that catch your eye. I took you winter clothes shopping the other day and you were very clear about which clothes you liked and didn’t like. You’re such a little fashionista. And a diva. You now request that your hair be dried after taking a bath. I can’t even think of all the little demands you have on a daily basis. You’re lucky you’re so adorable.

I love you my beautiful daughter. Thank you for filling my days will girly giggles and silly little sayings. Thank you for being mine.

Love,
Mama