Today I saw eleven.
Eleven is anticipation. Eleven is waking up to cinnamon roll coffee cake and not caring that it’s all butter and sugar and sugar and butter.
Eleven is giddy and impatient, opening cards and forgetting to read who it’s from because what’s inside is so much better.
Eleven is sweet to brothers until they steal the remote, then it’s surly and squinty and vengeful and loud.
Eleven is brazen, besotted with bacon and beguiled by all things gummy.
Eleven is carefree, confident and completely unconcerned with appearance but particular about baby blue pedicures with yellow flowers with red jeweled centers.
Eleven loves surprises, chocolate chip cookies, paper lanterns and charm necklaces. Eleven loves hugs, says ‘I love this’ every three minutes and means it every single time. Eleven is blue tongues and ring pops and blow pops and hidden sugar stashes in old hand-me-down purses that seem too big.
Eleven loves her friends, her aunties, her brothers and her mommy.
Eleven says mommy when we’re alone in the car, but mom when we’re out in the world.
Eleven is BBQ sauce and balsamic onions on grilled chicken and pineapple pizza, with jalapenos for kick.
Eleven is quiet whispers with her BFF, jungle gyms, chasing lightning bugs and too many ‘but it’s not that dark yet’ and ‘please just a little longer’ pleas at the park.
Eleven is chocolate fudge layer cake with chocolate butter cream and extra chocolate chips for good measure. Eleven is homemade cookies and cream ice cream, off-key candlelit serenades and sugar high giggles when the day is almost over.
Eleven is sweet and sassy and spirited. Eleven is curious and naive and trusting.
Eleven is the middle ground, the resting place and the sweet spot.
I love eleven.