Our Girl Is Graduating — And I Don't Have Words Big Enough
Tomorrow Marisa graduates high school.
I have been trying to write this post for a week and I keep running out of words. Which doesn't happen to me often. So bear with me while I try to get this right.
Who Marisa is
I have known Marisa since she was seven or eight years old.
Jesse has known her her entire life.
Let that sink in for a second. Her entire life. He has watched this girl grow from her very first days into the extraordinary young woman who is walking across a graduation stage tomorrow. And I came into the picture a little later but I have had the privilege of watching some of her very best chapters unfold — and this one might be the most beautiful yet.
Marisa is one of our adopted daughters. She is family in the truest sense of the word — not because of paperwork or biology but because of love and time and shared moments and the particular way she fits into our lives like she was always meant to be there.
She is the first person truly close to us to reach this milestone. The first one. And there is something about that — watching someone you love do something this big for the very first time in your shared history — that hits differently than you expect it to.
And here is the detail that I keep coming back to because it feels like the universe had a plan:
Marisa's birthday is November 9th. Lennon's birthday is November 14th.
Five days apart. Many, many years between them.
Two girls. Five November days. One family. I don't know what you call that other than meant to be.
What Marisa means to our family
She is one of Lennon's most favorite people in the world. Full stop.
The way Lennon's face lights up when Marisa walks through the door is one of my favorite sights in the world. And watching Marisa with Lennon — this young woman who is so patient and caring and genuinely delighted by that little girl — tells you everything you need to know about who she is as a person.
We celebrated her at her graduation party a couple of weeks ago and it was one of those evenings you want to bottle. All the people who love her, gathered in one place, celebrating everything she has become. I sat there watching her and felt so proud I didn't know what to do with it.
Jesse watched her take her very first steps in this world. I came along later and got to watch her take some of her biggest ones. And tomorrow she takes the biggest one yet.
The bittersweet part
I want to be honest because that is what this space is for.
It is bittersweet.
She is our first. The first person truly woven into the fabric of our everyday life to reach a milestone this significant. And even though the ending of this chapter is a beautiful thing — even though she has worked hard and earned every bit of this moment — there is grief in it too. The quiet grief of watching someone grow up. Of knowing that this version of her, this chapter of all of us together in this particular way, is closing.
She is so grown up. When did that happen. I genuinely need to know.
The part that makes it better
She is staying local for college.
We are not losing her. And I want to sit with that for a moment because it matters more than I can fully express. Lennon gets to keep her person. We get to keep her in our lives in a real and present way. The chapter is changing but it is not ending.
We get to keep her around all Summer — watching Lennon, being part of our days, just like she has done the past couple of years. And then we are doing a big joint family beach trip to celebrate the season together. And in the fall when school kicks back up, she will be here to help pick Lennon up on school days and keep that special bond rolling.
To Marisa
You have been loved your whole life and you will be loved for the rest of it.
Thank you for being who you are to our family. Thank you for loving Lennon the way you do. Thank you for letting us be part of your story — because being part of your story has been one of the greatest gifts.
Go show the world what you've got.
It is not ready for you. 🎓🤍
xoxo,
Katie