“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our
children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.”
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
March 2, 2026
Dear Emily:
Yesterday, you were in pigtails.
Today,
you are 50 years old.
Emily,
you couldn’t have been more than 10 years old when I begged, “Please leave your
hair in pigtails.” I loved the bouncing
ribbons. The bows were as bright as your smile.
Even
then, you said, “Dad, I can’t be a little girl forever.”
Indeed,
you couldn’t.
Emily,
we’ve never had trouble communicating. You look at me with those big, beautiful
blue eyes, and the words tumble from the depths of your soul. I don’t need a seismograph to warn of mood
eruptions. Your eyes flash as if they were juiced with neon and 110 volts.
I learned early that when your tears
start, brace for a typhoon. And I know
when the storm clouds pass, your 1,000-watt beam returns as quickly as it departed.
You have an indomitable bounce-back spirit.
In 1999, as you were wrapping up your
UGA degree, you said, “Dad, you asked what I want as a graduation gift. Now, I
know. Why don’t you sit down?”
I did.
Leaning over, you said, “I want to go
to India and backpack. I will be gone for 35 days.”
My mind told my mouth, “Hush.”
You continued, “I’ll go with the
National Outdoor Leadership School. NOLS is a worldwide program. And I’ve
always wanted to hike in the mountains of the Himalayas.”
Emily, you reached over and grabbed my wrist to check my pulse.
“It’s not a kick-back vacation, Dad.
We will learn to survive in the wilderness. It’s hard. Sometimes dangerous. I
have to be in great shape.”
When I sighed, you said, “You know that
I love challenges. You have always encouraged me to be an individual and make
my own paths. This is what I want to do.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
Poise had replaced your pigtails.
My little girl had become a woman.
And I knew that when you returned, Tom
Wilson, a UGA classmate, would be waiting for you, too. A diamond on your
finger was the promise of a wedding in July.
Fast-forward to 2012.
“Dad, Tom and I are expecting our
fourth son.”
“Oh, my, Em. Four children? What were
you thinking?”
“Dad, this is what I was thinking. Tom
is a wonderful husband, a loving father and a great provider. For us, it’s all
about family. This will be the last child that I can have. But if God puts
another on our doorstep, we’ll love that baby, too.”
On Jan. 30, Smith (short for NeSmith)
Wilson turned 13. I can’t imagine our family without him or his brothers,
Wyatt, Hayes and Henry, and their cousins, William, Fenn, Bayard and Stella.
Amen, Emily.
Life is all about family.
And about the people you love.
Your heart is as big as Senoia, your
adopted hometown.
Family, friends, church and community
know that they can count on you. If you see something that needs doing, you
don’t wait to be asked. You just get it done. Emily, you make the
Energizer Bunny look lazy.
You amaze me. You are a gushing fountain
of ideas. You are artistic, creative, inquisitive, fun-loving and funny with an
infectious laugh. You are an entrepreneur, a thrift-shop explorer, a party
planner, an acclaimed cook and an accredited interior designer. You are a
maestro managing so many moving parts. And as a fitness buff—in your spare
time—you became a certified hot-yoga instructor. You are truly a renaissance
woman.
Emily, I am proud of you.
Your roots go deep, and your wings
keep you soaring.
I can’t wait to see what “mountain”
you climb next.
I love you.
Happy birthday.
Dad
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
