Our hearts hold layers just as a tree holds leaves. Each one falling slowly. Sometimes not at all welcomed, pushed along with the force of a gusty wind. Renewing our lives as we grow stronger and walk confidently. The roots grow deeper. Seemingly compared to the words we hear along the way. Carving and shaping not only ourselves but each one that we get to share our homes with.
This little pixie in the middle. We celebrate broken fevers, a sleep full night. A dry bed and an inch taller in her height. This almost 5 year old. I close my eyes sometimes and make wishes. One in which we will cherish these seemingly insurmountable accomplishments ~always.
When we travel through months & years of healing. Deep conversations sometimes hold the weight of the world. This moment:
Dear Son, I want to write you a letter. One that has taken a long time to write. I know that sometimes other people, even your friends, don't always have your best interests in mind. In your vulnerability more of your precious innocence has been lost. Your art was found in the wrong place. You are home with us, from school, to really let that sink in. To learn from this occasion. Thank you for your honesty. And for apologizing to all those that were affected. For this I am completely proud of you. We want to direct your art in a more positive direction. One day you'll know that we as your parents were there. And we understand. There are so many things tumbling around in my heart that I want to tell you. But for now let me sum it up: I love you. I appreciate you. I value your life. I believe you will lead an incredible life. An artist you are. You were created perfect by your Artist. Wholly, unconditionally loved. Please know always that you are not alone.
Love, Mom
