Little Kindnesses

My daughter is getting ready to graduate from high school as salutatorian of her class, and she is all set to start her Ivy League education in September. She is a talented singer and actress, a hard-working and intelligent student, a leader in extra-curricular clubs, and a fun-loving regular teenager as well. She's a wise old soul type, so much so that I have turned to her with my stresses and concerns for years, even though I know I shouldn't. We laugh and talk as friends; I won't apologize for that because she is well aware I'm also her mom. I know I will have tears when she leaves home for college not only because I will miss her like crazy, but also because I am so proud and excited for her that I could burst. I could list the dozens of academic and other accomplishments which fill me with that pride, but before she leaves, I want to remind her of some small acts of kindness she performed which were not listed on her college applications but that are etched forever on my heart.

Dear Abigail,

When your dad and I took a vacation to England three years ago, your toddler sister trusted you. You implicitly understood her sensory issues and helped her feel secure at bedtime by sleeping with her and indulging her in the strange rituals that soothed her.

When we left to bring your older sister to college four years ago, the first thing you did was to sit at the kitchen table and write her a letter.

When I was pregnant six years ago and having a particularly bad sickness spell while trying to pick you and your brother up from school, I ended up vomiting on myself and in the driveway. You helped me out of the soiled clothes and into the shower, you laid out clean pajamas on my bed, and you wrote me a sweet note in which you even asked me not to make a big deal of your help.

When you were a first-grader and we came home from Russia after adopting your brother, you made sure to scrawl a letter to Santa to inform him that we had a new little boy in the house who would need some gifts.

When you were four years old, your dad witnessed the horrific events of 9-11 from his workplace. He made it to a colleague's apartment where he called us, crying. When you had your turn on the phone, you could tell he was upset and you told him that when he got home you would cheer him up "by talking about farts and other inappropriate things". You were able to make him laugh.

Abigail, "source of joy", I love you so much and am obviously pleased with you for all of the usual reasons any parent would be. But I want to remind you that the little kindnesses which I have seen you show time and time again really are the most important things. Bring those with you out into the world, and with all your other amazing gifts, you will make it a better place.

Mom