a special song for a special boy
By now you know you have parents that run out. out of time. out of energy. out of patience. out of knowing. and yes, even out of love. it’s the hardest thing about being your mama, knowing that i am not enough for you. i wish i could reside inside your heart, seeing clearly the needs, quirks, tender spots, and longings that ebb and flow within it. that way i could never wound you by just not understanding. i could always give the squeeze, the word, the gift, the silence that your heart needs most. and i could protect you from this mean ol’ world.
but o my son. it does not work that way. despite what your first year tells us, there is a place where i end and you begin; you will feel this separateness keenly one day – you probably already have.
atticus, i want to tell you about the song that da and i sang to you every night of your first year. it’s the kind of song that if you learn it (i mean really learn it), it will help those achy spots that nobody – not even i – knows about. we switched the “i’s” to “you’s”, but it goes like this….
tonight was at least the 357th time i sang this to you, but it doesn’t get old. being special to someone is the difference between happy and sad, empty and full. i think that i am using repetition to embed these words into your soul, to lay this as your foundation before anything else. i am so glad that i can be the first one (with da) to tell you how important you are; how much you matter and how every little part of you – down to your littlest toe – is worth knowing. i am even more glad that when i am not exactly what you need, you STILL aren’t alone; you have a Maker to fill my and this world’s big ol’ gaps.