Caroline turned eight this week. Eight years ago, she arrived differently than I expected. She was two weeks late with a long body that was as strange to me as her red hair and blue eyes. I knew she was mine because I had worked for it, but if I hadn't, I would not have believed. We took her to the American Girl doll store in Atlanta for her eighth birthday; a special trip with just Mom and Dad and Caroline. We spent the day watching her, like we did the day she was born. Watching her make decisions, watching her ride in the back seat grinning, watching what foods she chose when there is no one to share with, what movies she watched when she did not have to negotiate. It was good to have time to "learn" her some more; time to see what makes her Caroline. Her hair is not as red now, though it's reddish. But she still has a sense of herself that is unwavering. She picked a doll that is native american, Kaya. She liked the doll's long hair. She didn't want a doll that looked like her or was familiar in some way. She chose what she would enjoy. A good step in growing to be a strong woman.
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