A LETTER TO MY FUTURE DAUGHTER

Stand tall, little one.

Your branches are young but your roots are strong. I know because I tended them, I watered them, I loved them.  We share the same roots, you and I.

Stand tall, little one.

It's okay to cry, but then you must lift your head and dry your tears.  There will be times that you feel your heart will stop beating for the pain, but know that it won't.  You are a survivor and the pain will make you strong.

You will never be what they want.  First they will tell you that you are to quiet, then they will try to silence you.  They will call you saint and sinner, goddess and demon; you can't please them so please don't try.  Please don't try.  You know who you are and you know what sets your soul on fire.  Feed that fire.

You will be rejected and you will be lonely and you will be afraid.  Courage, daughter, and know that you are loved.

Stand tall, little one.

Open your soul to God and He will replace your doubts with assurance, your fears with faith.  You are weak and you are human and you will make mistakes.  Apologize.  There will be those who will define you by your mistakes.  They will tell you that you've run out of chances, that you can't possibly be good enough.  Don't listen.  God is endlessly patient and He will never get frustrated.  He will always be willing to forgive you, to teach you, to bandage your wounds and kiss your forehead.  Remember that He is the only one who loves you more than I.  Trust him fully.  His plan will always yield better results than ours.

Don't ever waste time on those who don't recognize your true value.  They will only hold you back and they don't deserve to share your world.  Don't allow yourself to be mistreated, but be free with your forgiveness.  Remember that those you love are just as human as you.  They will let you down and they will hurt you and that's okay.  Let it go.  Learn from it.  Let yourself grow.  And let them do the same.

Work hard.  Talent alone will get you no where.  If you want something, go out and fight for it.  You are entitled to nothing, so expect nothing.  Your ambition and dedication will be rewarded.  Prioritize.  Keep your vision and perspective.  Don't let yourself get distracted.  Always remember that God and family come first.

Stand tall, little one.  There are great things in store for you.

Love,
Your Mother

I'm freakin' out man.

I'm lying in the dark and I can barely swallow and I'm thinking about you and I'm thinking about me and I'm not thinking about us because there is no us.  I made sure of that.

But I'm thinking about me and I'm thinking about the person I've become, and wondering how I got like this.  And I'm wondering if I really became like this or if I've always been this way, but I've just never had to choose before.  I mean, I guess I've always been easy and I've always been careless but I thought I was still a pretty good person.  So I'm thinking about me.

And I'm freakin' out man.

I'm thinking about me and I'm thinking about you and I'm thinking about all the words I didn't say and all the words you didn't say back.  I'm thinking about all of the words I did say and all of the words you still didn't say back.  And I'm wondering if you ever even read my letter or if you just threw it away, and if you are still mad at me or if you just don't care anymore.  But I will probably never know because we don't talk anymore.  And even though I have very little hope at this point, I can't stop myself from wishing that your name would show up on my caller ID.  And the first words I would say would be to ask you if I ever told you about the martini glass next to your name in my contacts and tell you that Leonard totally has a chance.  And the second words I would say would be to tell you that I love you and I am so sorry.

On second thought, maybe I'd better say those in the opposite order.

I'm freakin' out man.

I'm sitting in the dark and my ears are killing me and I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about how I want to call you right now, but I won't because I'm still afraid of what you will do even though it can't get any worse than this, but also because I can't generate enough sound to travel past my teeth.  

I'm thinking about me and I'm thinking about you and I'm thinking about us even though there is no us. But I wish there were.  Maybe if you could still love me after all that I've done, I could too.  And I'm thinking about how much I want to prove to you that I can be everything that you believed I could be.  Not just for you but for me too.  Even though I will never be a part of your brilliant vision and your radiant future, maybe I can still have a tiny sliver of that for myself.

But fate has a sadistic sense of humor, and timing is everything.

And I don't know what to do about how much I miss your earnest eyes and the map of the world on your bedroom wall, your weird sense of humor, dancing in the gazebo, and spanish music and our growing list of lookout points.  Sandpaper. Talks about God, about science, the color of the mountains and the way the streets start to sparkle in the evening, cannibalism, Finland and topless old ladies, yesterday and tomorrow and the next ten years, and how soft your carpet is.  I miss light saber fights and parfaits and duets at your piano and how I wasn't even mad when you pushed my bare skin against the ice cold metal of your car.

But I'll never get that back will I?

I'm freakin' out man.

Apparently they don't write songs about this.