Cracks

My first born just turned twelve. I try to write the girls a love letter each year for their birthday.

Dear M,

My sweet girl who now steals my slippers, is too heavy to lift, and watches Netflix now like a tried and true binge watcher. I used to dress you long ago, but now you change your own clothes and styles looking for that outer skin that feels like it matches your inner being. It is beautiful to see it when you do– you’re lighter. I often marvel how in only twelve years in the world, you already have taken up almost as much space as an adult.

And so, happy 12th birthday! Welcome to the in between of things. It won’t be the last time you’re here in the place between then and now, but it is the one people notice and call out the most. It is hard to be the near size of an adult and heading that way, but still tied to childhood. Don’t rush it, darling. Don’t put all the childhood stuff behind you yet. It’s fleeting.

You already have grown up in ways I wouldn’t have meant to choose for you. I know that it’s your life, but I am sorry things are harder than they should be. Dad and I couldn’t survive together and give you what you deserve in life. Dad still seems like he’s trying, but honey, sometimes he just can’t do much but live one minute to the next. When things are like that there isn’t any room for you or anything else. It sucks. It should be different. It has not a thing to do with you or you’re worth at all. And that’s heavy. I know it feels like it broke you a little. It won’t be the only thing that breaks you in life. Try to remember that’s how the light gets in.

I know you struggle here with our choice to get married quietly this year. Listen kid, I respect your feelings. I hope you know it wasn’t about hurting you. I would never seek out something that pains you as a goal. It was for you. It was for your sisters. And yes, it was for me and Match. I know getting in the car was big. I know not leaving it was your life raft. I would never, despite your view, choose to share a life with someone who I thought would bring you less in life. Honey, the proof is in the pudding: I left the one who never chose you. I picked a new guy who does. I’m hoping one day in the rear view mirror you’ll see it. Parenthood is a long game. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared this will be the thing that makes you leave me like Uncle Jimmy left Papa, but I hope that little thing inside that tells me its okay is leading us somewhere better. The things that break us, like that day between you and me, is the thing that lets the light in.

You would think the highlight of this letter would be talking about how weird this year was watching you grow in a pandemic. We found lots of ways to pass the time. We kept a circle. We worked. We visited. We didn’t lose our minds entirely remotely learning. We stayed well. I hope we showed you that even when things are scary, and they often are, that you can keep your head. That your quality of life is not worthwhile without love and little risk. That we can do hard things. That we get through hard things together even when the hard thing itself is staying apart.

This year there you left elementary school. You got recognized for academic achievements with all those terms of straight A’s. You made good friends and were a leader which makes me proud. You found a role model and adult to help you in ways Mom can’t always with your teacher. You were, sigh, the Principal’s favorite. I’m so proud that you shone that bright. You were cast as Jafar and now a solo singing “Poor Unfortunate Souls.” I don’t know if you know it, but I honestly think drama saves your life, kid. It lights you up and I hope you always chase the thing that makes you feel that way. You have not picked up the sax, which saved my ears, for a year, but I’m hopeful next year you’ll be playing loudly. I think you talked me into leasing a goat. I don’t even know how these things happen except I have much more “yes” in me than “no.”

You’re wonderful. Whether you feel like you found pieces of yourself as a sarcastic Jade West and strong willed Santana. The black look is classic and can carry you through life. You are brave and true to yourself and strong. M, sweet thing, you were made for your life. The one you have. I know, because its universal, you’re about to spend more time wishing things were not quite the way they are. That your hair was flatter, or your Dad wasn’t such a fuck up, or Match would just lay off, or I wouldn’t dance in the car at pick up, or that A wouldn’t need to reflect you so much. I feel like the next decade of your life will be this thing where you waste lots of time trying different square pegs in the round holes until, well, you find you have to be yourself. The problem is you just can’t know what fits until you have a whole floor if discarded attempts that didn’t work. You’ll grow through it. But know who you really are, the one you’re not always sure you want to meet inside, is the one we already know and love. And, don’t fret, we’ll love all the versions you try in between finding your way to yourself.

I hope this year that you also find ways to stretch your patience to those who need it most: yourself, your sisters, and your fathers. I hope you learn to be uncomfortable. Life is gonna put you there. Math class and people chewing are just the beginning, bug. It is a muscle. You have to practice. There is no short cut there for you. Match is trying to show you what he knows. Dad is showing you what might happen if you never figure out how to sit through things. I hope I show you what is on the other side.

You’re the one I’ve loved the longest. Longer than your Dad. Longer than your step-Dad. You’re the one who taught me your heart can walk outside your chest and you can survive. The one who made me a Mom. The one who makes me laugh.

Your the one who impresses me all the time. The one who I think is gonna bring so much to the people in their world.

Happy twelfth birthday, my dear M.

I love you more than dark chocolate.

Love, Mom