to my son
September 7, 2014 § 6 Comments
I’ve been writing your sister more often of late, but my mind holds a space for you despite the deceptive inequality of letters. I see you struggling a bit to find your way, the determined quiet that speaks to your ever evolving independence. I collect your stories and note your choices, suffer your worries and applaud your conviction, temper my counsel with familiar boundaries.
I am standing a little further in your shadow, still ever mindful of your experiences. The truth is, some days the best I can do is offer you less. There are mistakes and accomplishments more fully measured without my presence tugging the scale in one direction or another. Pieces of your story that must be written in your hand.
I’m still here.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
I was just thinking. Sometimes knowing just that (your last two lines) is exactly enough.
I agree, Maurice. I should note that these letters are echos of more intimate conversations I share with my children. If one day they read these thoughts, I hope both children will feel seen; present even in the quiet spaces of my writing.
nice 🙂
Thank you.
“Some days the best I can do is offer you less.” Oh so wise. Sometimes they really do just need to know we’re there, without input or influence. This is something I think I will be working on for the rest of my days.
It is so natural to lean into our children’s experience and offer comfort; so beautiful when they stand tall in a difficult moment and discover their own strength.