I want to tell you . . .

I want to tell you how it feels to watch girls 
grow right under my nose.
I want to tell you how amazing it is to see a girl whose mom says she rarely, if ever, speaks in public, how that same girl read her novel (HER OWN NOVEL, the one she wrote and illustrated) in front of a group of her peers and adults. Like she'd been doing it forever. Like she was born to be a writer who reads her work out loud.
I want to tell you about a girl who learned patience in an instant. Who waited her turn for the trampoline with a smile on her face as wide as the Mississippi because it felt good to own the word of the day.
I want to tell you about a girl who blossomed on the yoga mat. Whose face lit up when she learned the sun salute and the warrior and the chaturanga. I want to tell you about how she found peace in that space.
I want to tell you about the way it felt to doodle with our eyes closed and splatter paint because no one ever lets you splatter paint and it's just so darn satisfying.
I want to tell you about writing on bananas.
I want to tell you about swimming in a cool lake on the hottest day of the summer.
I want to tell you about making art in the sand--beautiful mandalas that brought us peace and proved we were here on earth for a moment.
I want to tell you about the woman who admitted she wants to be a singer songwriter before this life is over and the girl who inspired her to take a risk. I want to tell you about the book she wrote called How To Write a Song, which was a song itself.
I want to tell you about the 11-year-old singer songwriter who serenaded a group of adults under the oak tree with a voice so sweet and full of confidence and light it moved us all to tears.
I want to tell you about the crazy homage to Keith Haring and my feet burning on the hot pavement. I want to tell you about how it felt to hang our art on the walls of the deli and the office building and lay down on the sidewalk and giggle knowing someone would find it soon enough and wonder just what it was and why it was there.
I want to tell you about making a new wish tree and leaving behind more tags for more wishes because there aren't enough wishes in the world that come true and maybe some of these will. It's a powerful thing to wish.
I want to tell you about our compasses, the words that can and will guide us through the rest of our lives, words like bold and undiscovered and trusted and strong and positive and beautiful.
I want to tell you how we dared ourselves.
I want to tell you how we are growing, with every collaboration, every teaching experience, every opportunity to learn something new about ourselves. We are watching girls grow and we are growing, too.