to my son
August 20, 2014 § 8 Comments
I like you. I wonder if I say that enough. Love isn’t something that I contrive to express; it is a fluid language that is ever-present. Liking you is a separate matter.
If you weren’t my son and we were choosing seats on this journey, I would want to sit next to you so that I could hear your thoughts and better watch your adventures. I would want to know the warmth of your friendship and the fierceness of your convictions.
I just like you. Period.
You move and speak at times like a cartoon whose ink has been blurred into curious action. This display of self sometimes garners unwanted attention but you are tirelessly comfortable outside the norm.
While some seek to impress others at the cost of unkindness, you are fearless in your forgiveness and loyal beyond reason. You harbor no grudges against friends or family and you accept those you love’s faults unconditionally.
Every day you question the world around you in search of answers to endless questions. You see broken logic with the same eyes that find beauty and look inward to weigh your experiences for self truth.
You leap into uncertainty with confidence, prepared to succeed and willing to fail; able to laugh and comfortable enough to cry. There is a brave, unapologetic honesty to your emotions that allows you to be fully present.
I so often look at you and wonder at my good fortune that you are mine to love and yet I exhaust more time reminding you to pick up laundry than I do acknowledging your character. I’m going to work on that, because I want you to know I don’t just love you, I genuinely like you.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
Before my friend had children of her own, she was sort of aghast when I admitted that sometimes, my kid was kind of an asshole. But loving and liking your children come from different places. Now that they are older, I find that I love AND like these small people. Often, we’re reminded when we see our kids through the eyes of others. What prompted you to see past the laundry?
As usual, lovely lovely true things written like no one else…
xxoo
What a great question! The answer is as simple as a change to routine. Against the backdrop of unfamiliar settings I witnessed unexceptional, everyday demonstrations of confidence, charity, compassion, and curiosity that were ever-present, but misplaced in the mundane mess of everyday busyness.
Of course hours after publishing my praise he had me questioning my sanity to keep me humble!
You have the best insights Marie.
I admire that you accept your son for who he is. I see too often that parents want to jump inside their children to best understand them and though I see the appeal for that, I think just it can result in missing chances to observe, reflect, and “like.” All are necessary to love.
I hope he is liking his new grade. I remember that was a source of stress for you all last year thinking about this upcoming school year.
Thank you for your consistently kind words. Our school year begins Monday. At the moment we are dressed in enthusiasm; hope caught in the crisp folds of a new experience.
Amazing message by your side to your son ❤
Thank you. It is a message I hope my son hears more often.
This resonates with me on a personal level (father of two young sons) and something I needed to read. Thank you.
It is particularly rewarding when a stranger finds a strand of self in a personal sharing. Thank you.