She took the first official step toward adulthood in a pastel blue graduation gown with matching pastel blue mortarboard.

Underneath the gown, she wore a black dress that revealed she is no longer a child.

At 14, she was a mess of emotions. Laughing one minute, sobbing the next. The pout showed up, too.

The audience who gathered in St. Paul Catholic Church to watch the 8th grade Class of 2007 at St. Paul's school receive diplomas included a heartwarming number of mothers, fathers, grandparents, siblings, friends. The row in front of us was literally lined with a large extended family of parents, siblings, brothers, sisters, grandparents and cousins.

The scene made me think again how very lucky these children are to have loving and supportive families.

If only all kids did.

After the diplomas, Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" sent them out into a warm May evening.

I was supposed to have written a letter to her telling her what I hoped was in her future to be given to her last night. But I didn't. Not because I don't care. But because I care so much.

She's scary smart. Driven. Assertive. Passionate. Thoughtfully opinionated, but open to the opinions of others and not afraid to say she disagrees.

Right now, she wants to be a presidential chief of staff, a la Allison Janney's character, C.J. Cregg, in the gone-but-not-forgotten NBC Series, "The West Wing." She has the White House website bookmarked on her computer. She prints out presidential speeches. Watches C-SPAN. Downloads press conferences on her iPod.

I keep telling her she ought to be the president not the president's chief of staff. She says no. She wants to be behind the scenes.

I joke, but don't push. I don't want to set her up. I don't want to influence her to be something she may not want to be when she gets there.

So every time I started to write something to her I got as far as, Dear Emily.

What I want for her isn't dramatic or grand, but simply to lead a happy, fulfilling life. To be able at the end to pass without regrets, without the "I wish I'd done that/been there/felt that" angst that so often strikes people in the autumn of their lives.

I want to tell her, don't wait for the perfect time. It never comes.

I'd also hope that she be aware that women still don't get a fair shake in many areas.  Bias is subtle now. Even some men don't realize they patronize, discriminate against women. You don't have to go looking for it, but when it rears its ugly head I hope she'll speak up and speak out. I hope gender doesn't get in her way. I also hope she understands that it shouldn't be used as a tool.

I hope she'll speak up about things she's passionate about. I hope she also understands that there are consequences to candor. Don't be afraid to endure them. Don't be a "good little girl" because it's expedient and/or safe. Take the risks and wear the scars like medals.

I hope she's loyal, but not blind. Loving, caring, but not at the expense of her personhood. I hope she's tolerant, empathetic, compassionate. I hope she is comfortable in her own skin and understands that we're all victims of self-doubts, neuroses and poor self-confidence.

I hope she strives always for excellence - in school, at home, at work - but can forgive herself when she falls short.

I hope she understands that family is what's most important. More important than jobs, money, position, power.

And I hope she'll forever remember that special night in May when she was surrounded by people who adore her.