It’s 16 years today since Joy, my bright and beautiful girl, came in to the world.

She gets lovelier, more confident, more mature, every day.

She could, in theory, do all sorts of stuff today. At 16, she can legally buy lottery tickets. She can set herself up as a scrap metal trader. She can have sex. More scarily, she can join the armed forces or fly a glider.*

And I know I probably ought to be worrying about all of that, but actually, my beloved daughter is honest and trustworthy and true. She’s kind and clever and thoughtful. She knows her own mind.

In short, she’s ready for 16. I hope it’s ready for her.

Happy birthday, Joy. I love you and I think the world of you. Here’s the song that was on the radio all through your first winter. I used to sing the chorus to you.

(Not the verses. I’d forgotten how odd they were until I looked this up on YouTube.)

*Instead of doing any of these things, we are going to buy shoes and earrings for prom.