It took me a while to write this, mostly because law school is overtaking my life, but also, because we're coming to an end, and I keep trying to postpone writing the last couple of chapters. And thank you so much for your reviews, I love reading them.

The Seventh Card

(26th December, Christmas #7. It's morning. Fitz is wearing jeans and a white tshirt and Rosie's still in her pajama's. He's carrying her. They're dancing. Her head is thrown back in laughter, hanging from his arms. He is gazing at her. Mesmerized.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl! My teenage girl! I can't believe you're a teenager. If I were there I'm sure we'd be having arguments now, and you'd be hating me half of the time. And I would love every single second of it. But I'm sure your dad has everything under control. And because he can't tell you this, I feel like I need to. Growing up is about learning your limits. It's about pushing against, about rising up. Not for anything, or against anything. It's testing your own limits, as well as all the limits you've ever known. And you'll do things that are stupid. And things that are silly. And things you'll regret. And things that will hurt. And that's OK. It's how you learn who you are, and who you want to be. And the great thing about life is that it's never too late to grow into someone else. Someone better. The great thing about life, the secret that adults keep from you is, you never stop growing up.

As for the memory, you and Dad recreating our wedding dance, yet again, needed to be included. You know, you should do that again this year, you probably haven't done it since that day. But now, you can let your feet touch the ground, and you can hold him up while he's holding you. That's another great thing about growing up.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

The Eight Card

(27th December, Christmas #8. It's evening. Liv & Fitz are cuddled together on the couch. Her head is on his chest. Her eyes closed. Her lips forming a faint smile, on their own, because that's just instinct, it's what happens when He's around. Her hand resting at the base of his neck, softly touching his curls. Fitz's hands are wrapped around her. Tightly. Anchoring her. His jaw resting on the top of her head. His eyes are closed too. And his lips are forming a faint smile, too. Their legs are intertwined, their feet cut-off, because the six year-old that was taking the photograph, was still learning how to frame her shots. Despite it, it is perfect. Capturing the love. Capturing desperation.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl. My favorite High School Freshman!

You're in high school! It's a whole new world that I'm sure you're navigating just fine. But the thing about high school is, that it's a process, a process of growing up. It gives you more responsibilities, but also more opportunities. Greater challenges and greater rewards. It makes you realize that there are stakes in life and that they are high. It's the end of innocence. And it makes some people better, and greater, while other stay the same.

But when you're having doubts, I want you to look at this photo. At six-years old you captured more than a moment in a photograph, you captured a feeling. Sure our feet are cut off, and it's at a strange angle, but those are the things you can learn. Those are the things you have learned. But how to capture a feeling, how to capture the honesty, the rawness of the moment, that can't be taught and it can't be learned. This photo was taken by an old soul. By a wise soul. By a soul, beyond her years. You have lived through a lost battle, you witnessed a lost war. And it didn't break you, it just changed you. So whatever you're facing, whatever you're fearing, I need you to know that a girl who took this photo, the girl with this soul, she can fight anything. You're not just a survivor, you're a gladiator. And the scars, they're emblems of victories, not signs of defeat.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

The Ninth Card

(28th December, Christmas #9. The three of them are standing next to an ice-skating rink. Rosie is standing in the middle, holding her mother's hand. Fitz's and Rosie's cheeks are red, they look out of breath. Liv is gazing at her daughter proudly. Fitz is looking at Liv. A smile on his face, genuine, with only a hint of nostalgia. A hint of – if onlys.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl.

This day was perfect. The kind of perfect that they write great novels about, and magnificent songs. The songs that change lives. It was that kind of a day. A cold day that made our noses red. A sunny day, the sky a faint blue; the blue that makes it seem farther away, higher, somehow more unobtainable. We took you skating for the very first time. And as soon as your skates touched the ice, all the fear was gone, all the anticipation melting into excitement. You just skated. In never-ending circles. And you smiled, like you haven't smiled in a while. Because, for a moment, all there was, was ice. The infinite circles. The chance to re-live, over and over again. And I guess that's what I'm doing with these cards. Trying to make you forget, even if just for a moment.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

The Tenth Card

(29th December, Christmas #10. Liv is sleeping on the couch. A faint smile on her lips. Rosie is cuddled next to her, but the little girl is not asleep. Her eyes are red and puffy, she's been crying. She's looking up at her mom's face. Hovering. Worried. The adult. The mother. The only thing that gives away her age, are her little arms, wrapped tightly around her mother's elbow. Holding her. Holding on. Keeping them both safe. Keeping them both sane.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl. I know the choice of the photo is unconventional, so I'll explain. I asked your dad why he took this and he said – Because when she's ready, she'll need to see how strong she was, how strong she can be.

This was the day the nosebleeds started. I just remember the blood. All the blood. And your dad was holding a towel up to my nose, his other hand trying to steady me, to hold me, but we were both shaking uncontrollably. And I just remember feeling your little hand on mine, gripping it with all this power. Holding me, steadying me. And when it was all done, and I could look down, all I remember seeing were your little hands, blood on them. All the blood. And the only thing you said was, - It's going to be OK mommy. And what broke my heart wasn't that we knew it wasn't true, it was that you knew it too. And when your Dad cleaned me up and carried me to the sofa, you got the blanket, and tucked me in. You did the – Monsters, monsters, go away mantra. You fixed me. Even if it was temporary, even if it was for just a moment, you fixed me. And I know you feel like you haven't, like it didn't make any difference in the end, but you're wrong. It made all the difference in the world. You know why – because I knew you could fix your Dad too, and everyone else. But now, now it's time to fix you.

You don't need to hide when you cry. And you don't need to smile when you don't feel like it. And you need to stop listening to people breathe and start listening to them talk, to them laugh. You need to stop waiting to fix people, because you think you can't fix yourself. You can, all it will take is looking at this photo and realizing it. Look again. Again. Do you understand yet? I'm asleep. And I'm smiling. I am there. And I am asleep. And I am smiling. Smiling, despite everything. You fixed me. The best you could. The best anyone could. So it's time to forgive yourself. Time to let go. Let yourself wash the blood off your hands. All the blood. It's time for you to see how strong you were, and how strong you can be. You are ready.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

The Eleventh Card

(30th December, Christmas #11. Rosie is wearing a graduation gown, more like floating in a graduation gown. Fitz and Liv are kneeling next to her, one is holding her "diploma" and the other one her hat. All three are beaming.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl. So, although this photo isn't from the 11th Christmas I thought it went well with the current theme in your life, and well, I just felt like Karen's endeavor deserved to be included. Making us attend your graduation, while you recited the Legally Blonde speech as a valedictorian was one of the most adorable things I've ever witnessed. And you're my kid, so I've witnessed some pretty adorable moments. Ask your dad to show you the tape; it's an instant mood fix. Trust me.

Now, off to more serious matters. It may feel like every choice that you make now will define your life, but it won't. Sometimes, despite the all right choices and good intentions, you end up in a place completely different than what you imagined. And sometimes, if you're as lucky as I was, it's infinitely better. Sometimes, despite the best-laid plans, a glance into someone's eyes changes everything. Sometimes all it takes is a minute.

So when you're deciding about college there's one thing I need you to know. There's nothing you can do that will make us love you more. And there's nothing you can do that will make us love you less. If what you're studying is making you happy, if every time you learn something new your heart skips a beat, then that's all that matters. And if it isn't you can always have a do-over. And maybe that new thing, the thing that was meant to be a fix, a remedy, will become a cure. And if it does, you will know in an instant. It will only take a minute.

As for graduation. If you're going to have it outside, make sure you don't wear stilettos. And make sure you wear water-proof mascara (if mascara's your thing). Because I know you think you won't cry, because you don't cry, but this one day, this one time, you will. Because you'll see your dad crying, and it will break your heart, but then you'll remember this card and realize that he's not crying because he's sad I'm not there, he's crying because he's so happy that he is.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

The Twelfth Card

(31st December, Christmas #12. It's the New Year's Eve. The three of them are standing in front of the Christmas tree. They are all dressed up. Fitz is wearing a navy tux, which is making his eyes somehow even more blue, more piercing, more translucent. He is holding Rosie, who is in a navy tutu-like dress, with actual fairy lights attached to it. She is smiling ear-to-ear. Grinning. She loves the installation that is her outfit. Liv is standing next to them, her arm wrapped around Fitz, the other one holding Rosie's hand. She's wearing a white dress. It's loose. Like a hospital gown. It's not meant to be. For the first time, the white is making her look fragile, the lightness of the dress contrasting the dark shadows of her collarbones. She looks stunning, but tired. So tired.)

Merry Christmas, my favorite baby girl. First time back from college! You are truly no longer a baby girl.

You've grown so much. You've turned into this amazing person. This amazing young woman. And it's time to embrace that. Here are just a couple of final things.

College. Make sure you have a lot of friends who are different from you, who like different things. Because friends who like music, they can teach you about it. They can change your mood by playing you the right song. And friends who like to read can tell you about epic loves and epic losses, about great books that will make you feel less lonely and infinitely happier, even if just for a moment. They can show you that heroes are just like you. And have friends who will challenge you, who will inspire you to achieve more than you ever thought possible. Because, one day, without you knowing exactly how or when, you will realize they've become your family. And you will need the extra family, because it's time to let me go.

It's been twelve years. You've been reading these cards for longer than you've known me for. You've been listening about me, for longer than you've been listening to me. And you've been reading about our life, rather than living yours. We've spent twice as much time apart, as we got together. And that sucks. But you need to let me go. That is why this is the last card. Looking back, trying to imagine that you are re-living these moments, trying to remember, memories slipping away, farther and farther with time; that's not what I want for you. These cards were meant to help you move on, help you realize how much you've been loved, help you realize how much we're alike, and help you realize that it's OK to move on, because I'll still be there when you do. I'll be there, but I won't be holding you back.

Make new memories, don't live out the old ones. Have Christmases, birthdays and Thanksgivings and make your own cards. New cards. Meet the love of your life, instead of reading about mine. Have your own kids, and love them as much as I've loved you, because I don't think it's possible for anyone, to ever, love anyone, more than I've loved you. And if you ever need a moment, to reminisce, to re-live, take these to the ice-skating rink, and have a moment of infinity, to feel, to mourn, to imagine. And then you'll skate. And you'll move on, into the new years.

I love you to the moon and back. Forever and always. For as long as you live.

Mom