i love to stand there as well (like you said). how many hours have i stood, have i sat, have i felt the fears hit me at any given time. (i’m no genius).
here is what i can tell you (my son, my daughter). it is all worth it. every bit of it. when i met your father, he stood there, as you are, trembling in the wind, yet defiant. yes, you’ve heard me say that about him a billion times, i know, i know. but he was. he was beautiful and courageous. he still is. each night he holds my hands in his as we fall asleep. your father never gave up on me either, you know.
what you don’t know is this: he saved me just as much as he says i saved him. i am stronger because of him, i am more resilient, i am less afraid to express all that love inside my heart because of him. he turned a corner early on and he didn’t just allow me in, he welcomed me in and made me comfortable. he came to me, honest and raw, when he was in pain. no matter how many times i pshaw’d him, he still said thank you, he still told me i was good, he still made me see that he’d never stop showing me how he saw me. (i see him)
my dear, that’s what you want. a grand but simple gesture. an instinct that hits you to the core, that sense of truth – that you’ll never have to look at your past chapters or lessons and wonder if it’s a repetition. they show you, they give you what you should have expected all along. they let you be incoherent, they help you be clear, they help you be home. (the home we now give you).
your father never leaves me with a doubt about what is true. when he looks at me, and i see that twinkle, i know. that’s all. i know. you laugh, but i know you see what i’m describing. do you know every day i wake up grateful?
(each morning i write love letters in my mind to your father, each day he reads them back to me)
I like her because she smiles at me and means it. ~Anonymous