Here’s some of what I love about you, the stuff you do and say that I love best, the qualities that make you so special, that make you Caroline.
I love how you looked as a baby, so adorable with those cherry-black eyes, as Grandma once said.
I love how you cried so much then, too, your cries telling us, “I’m here, I’m here!”
I love how hard you are on the outside, how you took issue with me once and jutted out your jaw and challenged me with the remark, “You think you’re tough?”
I also love how soft you are on the inside, how you used to talk to your dolls in your room (I heard you through the kitchen door), how you grew your hair long so you could cut it and give it away to kids going through chemo, how you cry at certain movies (such as all the Disney classics), and how just about every day you tell me you love me.
I love that sweetness about you, how you’re all heart.
I love how you look so at home on stage, so sure you belong there, and how you sing and dance with such skill and conviction, always going for the right note, the right step, usually hitting it, too, but if you miss it, always trying again until you get it right.
I love how very alive you are, how close you live to your skin, your nerves so exposed; and how intent you get before auditions and shows, how focused and zoned in.
I love how you talk, too – yes, it’s true – how you string together the words so well, the words coming in a burst, a waterfall breaking loose, because you have so much to say, pretty much 24 hours a day.
I love how you love Broadway and opera, the theater and Lincoln Center, music itself, the thrill of performance.
P.S. – Part 2 will appear tomorrow.