Aerie is four today.
This was a low key birthday party at home. We spent a few hours at the beach, a few hours playing outside. A few aunts and uncles stopped by. The girls – Ava and Kelry – were here to eat cake and jello. We cuddled. We laughed. I sang her Happy Birthday when she woke up with a smile on her face. She got to wear some nude coloured lipgloss today, because she “is growned up and tall now,” as she explained it.
I cannot believe she is four. That I have had four wonderful years being her mother. That I have seen her transition from interesting blob to this vivacious and powerful little being.
Powerful.
That has always been the way I have seen her. And it makes me laugh when others say “bossy” or “bratty” or “only child syndrome” and I shake my head, smile, and move on. Aerie, she knows her path. She knows what she wants to do. She knows her likes and dislikes. She is not afraid to use her voice. She is not afraid to stand her ground. I am raising a child who will know how to stand up of herself, know that her voice is valid, know that she is worthy. That she is allowed to be a leader, to be the one who goes first, the one who can express herself.
I won’t change that.
Aerie, at four, is a force. She can challenge me like no other, and she loves me like no other. When she is with me, the world is right. She is my sidekick, the one who gets me, the one who reads me, the one who knows that I will have her back, no matter what.
There are many plans and dreams that I have for the two of us. We are starting our annual trips next year. I want to take her to a different place every year for her birthday, somewhere on Turtle Island. Then when she’s 13 or so, we will start taking overseas trip together. I want her to grow up travelling, exploring, discovering, and being open and aware to other cultures.
But for now, we sit in the North for her birthday. We swim at the same lake I saw at as a child. We walk the same rez roads that I did. We celebrate with cake and jello and ice cream, like I did when I was younger. Because in order to go forth strong and proud, you have to know where you come from. And this rez life, this life of smokey camp fires, sandy beaches, Dene language, aunts and uncles, laughter and love, this is where we come from.
