open letter week

http://www.lastmomonearth.com/2012/06/open-letter-week-letter-to-girl-at.html

Dear MKT,

I saw a picture of you.  You were younger than me, an age for you that is hard for me to wrap my head around.

You were pretty in a familiar kind of way.  I searched for myself in your face and was disappointed when I found very little similarity.  I hope to be like you someday.

There are pictures of you with friends, with your husband.  I am jealous.  I don't think it's fair that they got to choose you.  I was born into it, expected to love.  As a young child, this is something one may resent.

If we were children together, I would have braided your hair.  We would have been lake friends and climbed on rocks smelling of moss and pine.
Mini scrapes on our legs after a day acting as mermaids.
Sun-kissed skin and hair.

Later we would have written letters with first accounts of first loves, me feeling a little envious of the boys taking the place of late night phone calls.
Never censored, we would laugh with gremlin faces and wear over-sized shirts for pajamas, asking questions and telling all.

At your father's funeral, I would have stood, scared and awkward.  My own tears flowing, putting myself in your place.

Once a year through college we would visit.  I would tell you how beautiful you have become.   You would tell me how hard it has been.

I would have chosen you to be my best friend, but when it comes to this letter, I do not know how to talk about us as adults.

Your grace, understanding, compassion, knowledge.

Would you want to see me now?

You had such faith in me.

You know me better than I know you.  The memories you have go further back: you remember when I was born, I remember wiggling off your lap, embarrassed to be so loved.

In older years I watched my mother curling your hair.  Your eyes were closed.  You missed being touched, and relished, like the monkeys we are, being groomed.  You seemed so human I wanted to cry.

(Thoughts of us together as children, braiding your hair....)

This is my apology for being the youngest and late to the game.
For not being the friend I wish I had been had circumstances been different.
For being the boy in "The Giving Tree" while you, the Tree, gave all.

You are rooted deep in my bones.
That is unshakable.
And despite not choosing you,  I would have never wanted anyone else.  I am lucky.
You were loved and continue to be loved everyday of my life without you.
And I loved you, so much, when you were in it.

Just thought you should know.

Love Always,
Your granddaughter

Patti Smith gets it

"it is said that children do not distinguish between living and inanimate objects; I believe they do. A child imparts a doll or tin soldier with magical life-breath. The artist animates his work as the child his toys." -Patti Smith

stunted

I spent the night last night with my very close friends in New Jersey.  They are real grown-ups.
They own their own lovely home.  They have a beer fridge and a liquor cabinet. They have a two car garage and a front and back porch.
They also have two adorable children.
Playing with their kids is a highlight for me.  It isn't a biological clock thing.  It's fun.   It's plain and simple fun.
And the thing is, they know I'm not faking it.  They recognize my giggles and games as honest enjoyment.  I don't have the energy to play as long as they can, and I believe that I detected slight pity in their smiles as I said "wow, this is hard," and took my seat at the kitchen counter.
Here is the kicker, and I honestly cannot get over her timing: the beautiful three year old girl turned to me during dinner and said "You're like a grown-up kid."
Her insight shocked me.  Smart girl.
I think I may have to go over to their house to play more often.