Dearest Frank Harvey and Fiona Tallulah
You’ve been trapped in space with stardust and hope, none of which I can expect you to survive in. I wanted so much more for my babies. I must’ve given you the wrong directions, and for this I am so very sorry.
Please know I think about you every day. I shut my eyes and see your beautiful faces. Chubby baby thighs in a kitchen sink bubble bath. I hope you’re happy, safe and loved. Is someone teaching you grace, manners and how to make the perfect paper airplane? Do they watch you sleep, let you play in the bath as long as you want? Show you art, color and music? Does someone read you long books and teach you poetry? Inhale your smell while helping you with homework? Do they see you, do they hear you?
Fiona – my brave quirky warrior. My girl fish. I imagine you would love the water more than land like I did as a little girl. What I wouldn’t give to watch you swim at the beach; your fierce tiny body never tiring, using every single muscle on your cute skinny frame. I admire the focus you give to the seaweed and shells, smelling them, studying every vein and detail. You are so present for a little girl, so brave – I will guard this trait with all that I am. I am so sorry I will never teach you how to be a strong woman or how to give ‘em hell. I won’t teach you to tell a good joke or how to read a room. I won’t ever get to make you the perfect banana pancakes or sew you a parsnip costume for the school play. I won’t ever wonder – “Am I doing this right?” I won’t sing to you or take you to college. We won’t share a bottle of wine and talk politics or what haircut looks best on you. I will never watch you from across the room make the same quirky faces I make. I will never hold your hand, or help you birth your own babies. All that I can do, is love you forever.
Frankie – what beautiful planet did you erupt from? Your curiosity is your uniform; you suit up every morning in this loveliness never stopping until you find the answers to everything. You notice the moon while your friends talk about video games and girls. You read people’s faces and know what they’re feeling and thinking. You don’t feel anything small just like me. My heart aches a bit knowing life is a little harder on souls like us, but it’s a brave crown that’s been picked out especially for you to wear. We see things others miss. It’s a secret language I’m afraid I will never get to teach you. I won’t ever watch you paint or draw. I won’t teach you my strange, quirky humor. I’ll never get to witness how people are drawn to you, but they can’t figure out why. I’ll never hold your hand or calm you down in the dark when the thought of your own mortality keeps you awake. As adults, we won’t drink whiskey on ice and talk about Foucault, what it means to truly respect women, or laugh at fart jokes. I won’t watch you with your own babies or be their Grandmother. I won’t teach you how to be a good man. I will never be able to show you it’s ok to be weird. All I can do is love you forever.
The strength you both possess surpasses mine in a mythical burst. You two are stronger than me simply because to live without you in this life kills me slowly. I have to set your souls free now to run, dance, play. Someday we will wade in mountains and climb oceans together, but until then; Please know that I am in awe of you both and love you with all that I am.
Love you madly, Mom