A Letter to My Child
Right now I’m alone, but one day I hope you’ll be with me. I hope you’ll have a father who is as involved in your life as mine was with me, and that while you will have examples of both masculine and feminine strengths to associate with. I hope you aren’t constricted by the gender norms of society, and that you are comfortable enough to talk to your family, your teachers, your friends, and your own future partner about your identity.
At four years old I hope you never stop asking questions. I hope you wonder why the sky is blue and why the grass is green and why you prefer chocolate chip cookies even though I like oatmeal raisin. I hope you explore the world with all of your senses, that you taste flavors from all around the world, that you smell the woods and feel the earth under your feet when you run, that you stop to stare at the city lights and to listen to your favorite song when it plays on the radio. I hope your sense of curiosity grows year by year and never stops.
At nine years old I hope you love with all your heart. I hope you hold the hand of that first crush and that you laugh together and that you find all the best hiding places on the playground. I hope that you let your imagination run wild when you play house, and draw a floor plan that includes a pool, a train, a chemistry lab, and room for as many pets as you could ever want. I can’t promise that that first love with last forever, but I can promise that I will be there for that first heartbreak too, without judgement and without prejudice; with tight hugs and warm cocoa and cozy blanket forts while you recover.
At thirteen I hope you take on new responsibilities, but not so much that it weighs you down. I hope you escape the growing pains of adolescence in books and art and music and movies. I hope you express everything inside you, even the things you don’t have words for. I hope you still ask questions and even question the answers you’re given. I hope you challenge the status quo for the betterment of the world around you. I hope you rally your peers to take up the causes you care about, and have energy to spare to do the same for others. I hope you always believe in the good in people.
At eighteen years old I hope you explore. I hope we are still close enough that you’ll ask my advice, but in the end I hope you follow your heart and forge your own path. I hope you come home for dinners and still enjoy helping me make those chocolate chip cookies; you know I’m a mess at baking, but I’ll make it up to you with your favorite breakfasts. I hope we write letters when you’re away, and I see the excitement in your handwriting. I hope you know that you’re stunning and smart and capable of doing anything you want to do, anywhere in the world. I hope you get as many opportunities as I had and more, that you go further and farther than I can even dream for you.
Most importantly, I wish these things for you because I love you. I love you without even meeting you. I love you no matter who you are, and I love you regardless of the mistakes that both of us will inevitably make. No matter what else ever happens between us, know that I love you.
Love,
Mom