New Year

I wonder what kind of people we would be if all the things that have happened to us, did not happen to us. I wonder how much of it is nature vs. nurture. How many of their demons are there because of me, or despite me?

I wonder what we would look like if we had continued our trajectory. Would we be softer? Would we be more kind?

I have an idealized version of myself as Mother where I am the person I used to be. Patient and solid.

I don’t know that woman anymore.

Sometimes I see her when I get excited and ahead of myself-as-the-person-I-am-now. I think I can do a thing or be a thing or make life look a certain way, I’m so sure of it and of myself. And then everything falls apart and I fall apart and I remember that the old life was a dream, and my old optimism was born of naivete and stubbornness and heroic cognitive dissonance. I tried really, really hard.

And myself-as-the-person-I-am-now does not, or can not, try very hard anymore.

I wonder if I had not had my whole ass handed to me by life if that would still be the case. If I might have some stupid bright eyed optimism left in me. Enough to organize the toys. Enough to gently walk my child through a teaching moment without wanting to scream. Enough to look at myself in the mirror and think, “OK, sure”.

It is no joke to not like the person that you are.

Love Letter

You’re good. Solidly. Every part of you is made up of good things: good works, good intentions, good nature.

You work hard. You value hard work. You reserve your respect for those who deserve it, and you’re an excellent judge of character.

You’re smarter than everyone. You have such a smart mouth.

You surprise me all the time. You’re thoughtful, and careful. You’re old fashioned and well mannered and you respect your mother. You say wildly silly things that catch me off guard.

You say intensely serious things and deliver them softly and with humor.

You are always so careful with me. You make me feel safe and loved and held. You call me on my bullshit and tease me worse than anyone.

You make me laugh when I want to cry. You make me cry laughing. You sneak jokes out of the side of your mouth meant only for me. You make my heart stop sometimes when you look at me.

You laugh at me in a way that isn’t ever mean. You laugh with me more often.

You always know what I mean and I don’t have to explain, but you let me explain anyway.

You think I’m funny?

You love me.

You give me room to mess up, and you let me come back from my failures with grace.

You take time for yourself and give to yourself. You let yourself be lazy, you force yourself to work harder than anyone, and you have no problem transitioning to a middle ground. You slide seamlessly into whatever role works best at the time. You make it look easy. You make everyone else look like chumps.

You have plenty to complain about and you never complain.

Your brain runs at a clip that’s unattainable for most people. You never seem to question yourself, and you move forward with a casual confidence that makes me crazy with jealousy. I’m proud to be at your side. I’m proud that you chose me. 

You can create something from nothing and you do it all the time.

You can make things with your hands that are practical and necessary, and you will laugh and roll your eyes at me because I say things like this: there’s an ancient and animal kind of wisdom and ability that runs through you. There are not many humans like you left.

Men like you are the reason our species has survived for so long. You are a better version of a human than most men can ever hope to be.

You have given me love, and home, and family, in ways I never knew were possible.

I love you, so much