Happy Birthday Kwi-girl!

Open Letter to my oldest daughter, Kristin, whom we call Kwi:

Dear Kwi,

Your nickname, Kwi, came about because, when you were three and four years old, you did everything so fast, you had trouble pronouncing your Rs (Kwistin, you’d call yourself), and you were so energetic, that I dubbed you Kwick-kwick. You were the fastest kid in your soccer league, and you could even outrun your older brother. Well Quick-quick was eventually shortened to Kwi. 

What a joy it was seeing you move with such energy and speed. The only problem was that, since you were always on the move, I rarely got a good look at you. I’d watch you sleep sometimes because it was the only time you were still. 

When you were older, we enrolled you in a dance program called Glory Academy of Fine Arts (GAFA). We wanted you to gain the poise and composure dance could offer you in carrying yourself with grace. Well it worked, but you saw dance as more than an exercise in poise. You loved dance – all the disciplines, but especially hip-hop – and poured yourself into it and became the top dancer in the academy. 

You’ve repeatedly won the Tew Crew Funniest Award, voted on by the Tew Crew members, because of your advanced sense of humor. And that’s nothing to sneeze at (or laugh at), since our family is filled with hilarious people. It’s such an awesome thing to be able to laugh with my daughter, and you always provide plenty of humor when we’re together. 

Since you’ve grown into a mature adult woman and professional, we all know you as someone with extraordinary organizational skills. I, myself, have brought you projects that had become overwhelmingly confusing and asked you to help me get them into a manageable system, and you’ve applied your talent to bring order to them, much to my amazement and gratitude. How proud I am when I watch you operate with such a gift!

And now you’re 33 years old. Unbelieveable! Seems like yesterday you were only 3 and I was trying to get a bead on the blur flashing by that was you. 

I wrote in my journal 29 years ago of my sadness that you had finally learned to pronounce your little brother’s name correctly. You could now say Jacob, and Butcheck would never come from your lips again. I cried, I remember. And still I am crying now.

All the experiences – happy and sad, good and bad – continue to culminate into your story, and I’m so thankful to be a part of it. 

Happy birthday, Kwi! I love you and I’m so proud to be your dad!