When I was pregnant, I tried to imagine what you'd be like. I thought you might like flowers and the color pink, so I decorated your room in violets and made you a rose-colored quilt. Today, your bedroom is covered in Star Wars posters and pictures of sharks.
My girlfriend couldn't contain the surprise and horror at what my daughter was wearing in public. She stared at me open-mouthed, waiting for some sensible answer, like maybe all of my child's pants were dirty or better yet, stolen.
For me, September is just another small goodbye hinting at bigger ones ahead. But like a criminal on the lam, I realize our Thelma and Louise days are numbered, and not just because school is back in session.
When young women who step up are ridiculed for things that have nothing to do with the subject at hand -- things that are as irrelevant as their hair and clothes -- it sends a chilling message to girls everywhere about the perils of putting oneself out there.
"Oh, yes. Grace," I began, haltingly. "One thing to remember is that you will be at camp, having all of these new experiences. Everything here is just the same as ever. I'll be here in my ordinary life."