Fearless girl

She has no fear because she has a safe place to run toward.

She's fearless in her leaps because there's always a soft landing.

It's the trust that can only be born of a life lead in a parent's love.  And, she'll stay that blindingly brave girl until I'm forced to let her fall.  Because she will have to learn to pick herself up too -- not just fly unfettered.  And, as soon as she's up, she'll leap again - this time landing safely on her feet.  Because, though the blind faith will be gone, it will be replaced by the raging confidence of her spirit.  The spirit she has been growing behind the squeals of delight at each accomplishment.

Yes, she's a girl who knows no line she can not cross and sees no mountain she can not conquer.  And, I am a mother who follows behind her, redrawing lines and anchoring her to the clouds.

That's what we do, as parents.  We do what was done for us or what we wish someone had done for us.  We show them they can do anything.  We show them as many times as we can before the world gets the chance to do otherwise.  Not because they can scale every mountain, defeat every monster, or win every prize.  But because, most of the time, being unafraid to try is more important.

Run to me, little girl.

I'll catch you, little girl.

Fear nothing, little girl.

Wander

My mind wanders.

To all the wrong places.  To the people it shouldn't.  To every moment I can't get back.

I can't stop myself from imagining every thing you would've said to the words I craft so carefully behind my lips. 

In my head, I have created a life where any pain is chosen and all pleasure is golden. 

Throughout the day, you walk beside me even though your feet are miles away.  And, I curl up beside you at night even though your arms are full of someone else's warmth.

It can't be seen, but our movie plays on in my head.

In all the scenes where I've scripted your actions to an almost impossible perfection.  A cast of few who skipped the audition process and got the role of a lifetime.  And, a soundtrack that plays nothing but every song we didn't dance to.

Yes, my mind wanders a lot.  I cannot control the thoughts that sting my eyes.

I can control everything else, though.

The places I won't go to again.  The people I don't know anymore.  The indifference I show at the sound of a name. 

The direction I'm heading.

Away.  I'm always heading away.

Wandering away in my mind and on my feet until I run out of the roads we used to travel.  I wander away until I can't remember how to get back or why I wanted to.

My mind wanders further and faster until it is lost.  And, only then can I start to wander in a new direction.

Dear Maya,

Good morning, Your Highness.  You woke up as a six year old for the first time this morning.  And, you brightened this day as you have brightened the last 2,190.



You, my love, are bold.  There is absolutely nothing you won't try (although you would prefer it didn't mess your hair up and required all the right accessories).

You, mi amor, are light.  Sometimes a headlight from an oncoming semi, sometimes a lamplight leading me home, but always a spotlight on what is important.

You, my baby, are hilarious.  "Mama, why is it snowing?"  "I don't know, mija, I thought you were in charge of that."  "No, I'm only the boss of you!".

You, mi princesa, are smart.  Way ahead of the kindergarten reading level that most of your classmates are on, you read me your sisters' books and practice math problems in the car for fun.

You, my life, are ornery.  "Whatcha doin, Maya?"  "Nothing, but you look beautiful today.  Don't go in my room.  You smell nice.  I didn't do what's in there.  I like that shirt.  Eva did it."

You, mi vida, are beauty.  Outside, yes, you are spectacular.  But, inside, is where it comes from.  You are filled with goodness and sparkles and a pillow of love.



Maya, you came at a difficult time and made it worth it.  With your big, brown eyes, you made me see the glitter at the bottom of my almost empty heart.  You keep me on my toes, even if it's just to give you a place to stand while we dance.  And, for the last six years, you have shown me that the struggle is worth the trophy at the end.  I love you in all the ways you can only love someone who critiques your shoe choice and makes you chase them to retrieve your bra from their jelly covered hands.  That is to say, I love you as I could only love you.

Always,

Mama