My first niece turned thirteen this year. Because I have always lived more than 1000 miles away her and the rest of my family, I only see her periodically - usually just three or four times a year. Maybe less. I've not seen her age in analog. It's been very digital. A month here. A month there. Every time I'm home her hair is a little darker. Every time she hugs me it's a little higher around my waist.

But today, at the ranch, watching her ride her horse "Butch" for the very first time, I didn't see her as my little girl anymore. I saw her as bright and shining and capable, a glimpse of the woman to come, and I was so proud of her it hurt. I know she's been riding since she could stand, but I never really knew she could RIDE. It was stunning.

And because I haven't seen her grow gradually, the shock of this transition hit me like a brick. It broke my heart into a million little pieces, but I couldn't be happier. I don't think I've ever felt anything like it before. I'm so excited to see who she will become.

But she's getting there just way too fast.

Okay, so maybe not THAT fast, but still, it's too fast for me.