Dear Daughter,
Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. I promised you that even if it took a few months, we would properly celebrate your birthday, at the bakery with your friends.
Twelve months later, I have not been able to fulfill that promise.
Twelve months later we still feel the weight of the year of COVID. Twelve months later, you’ve barely stepped foot into a classroom and when you do, it’s with chrome books and headphones. Twelve months later we stand at the edge of your 12th birthday, reflecting on what we’ve lost, still somewhat shell shocked.
It hasn’t been easy for you; I can see that. One of your great superpowers is friendship; the ease of your curiosity translates so effortlessly to making new friends. People are naturally drawn to you; your openness and silliness beckoning them, impossible to resist. A chorus of hello’s and goodbyes seemed to follow us as I would pick you up from school, your name echoed by so many. Yet you would privately struggle, confiding to me that you often felt left out; that you weren’t included, that she was mean to you today, that he called you a name, that you weren’t invited. I felt the pain it caused you; I shed quiet tears for you. But you always recovered so quickly, much of your anguish being the typical ups and downs of adolescence; whatever happened yesterday would be healed with today. But this pandemic has been relentless in it’s quest for loneliness leaving so many of us stuck in the yesterday, stuck in the pain of seclusion. A novelty for the first few weeks, even months, we isolated with Netflix and board games and bike rides, yet a year later, this loneliness sticks to us like an unwanted dinner guest, patronizing us with his persistent presence.
I see that that loneliness is still stubbornly clinging to you as our days are still long, even with the trickling flow of normality. I fear what’s been stolen from you is too great a burden to bear some days. But then I remind myself of life’s oft repeated lesson that this too shall pass and I wish I could let you peek into the future, just for a moment or two. Just so you could catch a glimpse of yourself, however brief, back at the life we shed a year ago, letting it’s skin grow on us again. Just one moment so you could know that it’s all going to be okay.
You, my beautiful daughter, are such a great feeler of emotion. All of the emotions. No discrimination. Sometimes you experiment with feeling them all at the same time and that’s when I go to my room and hide. It’s such a strange realization as I watch my kids grow when I recognize that they have always been exactly who they are. That from day one, you, Daughter, were intent on always showing me how you felt. With gusto. You cried. A lot. You smirked. A lot. You laughed. A lot. You have racked up multiple academy awards with performances big and small, door slamming and body crumpling always ensuring that you take home the gold. But we can’t forget the impromptu fart jokes, the demand to cut your hair off, your penchant for using your body as a canvas and that phase where you insisted on being topless. As much as possible. Usually in public. I have always envisioned your spirit as a wild, beautiful horse, not meant to be tamed; a magnificent, feeling spirit. I love all your big feelings. I have big feelings, too. And while sometimes these giant emotions can be overwhelming, it is always better to have them than to hide from them. Now I’m not suggesting that we don’t continue to work on our….expression…of these feelings, but always remember that how you feel is valid. That what you have to say is important. That you bring meaning and joy to so many lives. Big feelings can carry a heavy toll; we experience the world differently. It’s brighter and darker so always remember to hold on to the light.
While I wish for you to glimpse the future, I wish for one moment to live in a glimpse of your dwindling childhood. To once again hear that tiny voice with it’s big demands; to feel all four of your limbs clinging to me, wrapping me in a cocoon of love in it’s purest form. I will never, not for one second, ever, take for granted the gift it is to be a mother. To be your mama.
Happy 12th Birthday, my sunshine.
I love you more.
Mama
