I don’t know if you’re ever going to read this, but I wanted to write you anyway.
Maybe you’ll get this when you’re eighteen, like I thought about doing originally. Who knows, maybe something different will make its way to you.
The bottom line is that I wanted to remind you of how incredible you are and to let you know just how you changed my life.
I know, you may not think that much of yourself now and if growing up is what it has been for decades, you’re probably more concerned with homework, the latest music, movies, your friends and think that most of us in your family are uncool. We pretty much are uncool, but we love every bit of you.
You’re such an incredible human being.
Before you could speak, before you could walk and before you even made more noises than those accompanying shock and surprise, you had the power to bring a tear to our eyes or create a ripple of laughter through an entire room filled with people. There was nothing you had to really do either.
Just you being there was enough.
You just being here is still enough.
When you were a little thing and I had the chance to hold you and look in your eyes those first few times and I saw a lifetime of possibility. You reminded me what it means to love.
Never before did the world stop so peacefully or so thoroughly for me than that moment in the dining room at Nana and Papa’s house.
You got me thinking, kid, and I cannot tell you how much I love you for it.
You see, I was really good loving other people but never at knowing what it meant to like what I saw in the mirror.
Hopefully you read that and think, “What a nut! How could you not like yourself?”
I have to admit, us uncool adults are kind of stupid about that sometimes.
We tell you that it’s not always about you when you grow up but make it all about us and how scared we are when we enter adulthood, even though we may not readily admit it.
When I held you and as I watched you grow throughout the first year and a half of your life though, my thinking changed in so many really, really good ways.
I thought about how much you will be able to do in this lifetime you’ve got, no matter what it throws your way.
And kiddo, things did come your way but you showed all of us what it means to bounce and do it with a smile on your face, being more aware of the positives than what all of us were fussing about. You couldn’t understand what was going on and it was kind of fun to hear that you weren’t buying into our story of how scary some things were. You rocked right on which I hope never changes, because that’s the kind of skill that never makes it on a resume but will help you make it through just about anything and everything else in life. Stay stubborn like that? Please? And if you need help with rediscovering what it means to be stubborn, just ask Papa. Ha ha!
There’s so much ahead of you that I can’t even begin to think of all the possibilities.
I’m just glad you’re a reader because honey, Auntie C will forever hook you up with all the book you’ll ever need.
When I held you, something clicked where I realized that each of us was at one time so young and so unaware of the world that any mistakes we made were just learning experiences.
Not all of us know, even now, how to do things like be honest about how we feel or really be thankful for each new day. It’s sort of like you learning how to walk. Mind you, that consisted of about a week of holding on to things before you were pretty much running the next day so at this rate, you’re going to be taking over the world at some point soon.
I thought that if we’re all still learning, we’re all still sort of like babies on the inside.
When I thought about how I talked to myself as a “kid” still learning things, I realized that I wasn’t being very kind.
I would never in this lifetime or whatever one comes next, think about saying those things to you because you were so precious and lovely, even while hitting the inevitable bumps and bruises that accompany learning new things.
You taught me how to be a kinder person.
Not just to others but to myself.
You taught me how to love well and not just because it sounds nice, but really feel it.
The coolest part?
You didn’t even use words- you were just you. You were there.
You were breathing and because you were there, you brought something special.
What you started to do with all of that as you found the words, the actions and knowledge to express yourself, made you even more lovable!
If that’s not cool, I don’t know what is.
I’m so excited to be there watching you grow and keep learning.
And if you ever need reminding of how beautiful, wonderful and totally capable you still are, give me a call, kiddo.
Day or night, I’ve got your back.
I posted this on here to share and felt that maybe it could help someone else express their love.
Remember…there are people in this world who love you this much, even if you don’t think there’s anything to love about you.
That, I can promise.
On The Wings of Miracles