My daughter will turn 11 tomorrow!

Yes, there are all the obvious, trite things to say about how it seems like only yesterday she was a scrawny, fiercely perplexed little thing who emerged with a gotta-figure-this-out-NOW scowl (inherited from her father).

But I'm also thinking about the mystery of personality continuity. I look at Margaret now, tall, articulate, strong. I remember the seconds-old baby, who was none of those things. And it's the same person. Just as I am the same person I remember being at 24, and 11, and 5, and 3, and all the way back as far as I can glimpse. However I may have changed in various respects, there is a core in there that is still the tiny girl crouching happily in the rain under a brand-new birthday umbrella. It was red, and had clear-plastic circular windows in it, like portholes. How wonderful that it rained the day I got it!