Today, out of the blue, my mom sent me a “love letter.” We’d been writing back and forth about the happenings in our week and I’d just told her my kids had fallen asleep on the carpet. Although her heartfelt note was personal, I know she won’t mind my sharing it with you here:
“I know you can understand what I am about to say now. It really does
seem like yesterday that the 3 of you were all snuggled up in blankets
in the living room watching a movie and it was raining and I can still
see you all there looking so beautiful it brings tears to my ears just
thinking about it. Where in the hell has time gone. Just know that
twenty years from now you will be sitting somewhere (anywhere) and that
memory of Bailey & Sophie will be as clear in your mind as it is today.
Parents never truly lose their children to adulthood because our
memories retain those wonderful times for us.”
Her love touched my heart and I knew I’d keep this note, this little piece of her heart forever. Here was my reply:
“Now you made ME get teary–that was beautiful, mom. Since Bailey’s gotten older and I’ve watched him grow and change, I’ve realized some very painful lessons of life. Time doesn’t stop for us. It keeps moving so you’d better make sure and make the moments count. And all those moments that live in your memory or your heart–those are the things of life that get you through the tough times, make you determined to succeed, and scare the heck out of you. I wish I could bottle Bailey and Sophie up at this age. But at the same time, I love seeing who they are becoming–especially Bailey. Lately he’s grown into this entirely different being, full of goals and dreams and interests that have nothing to do with me. I love his compassion and his sweetness and even love his naughty, spastic nature at times. And Sophie–little independent Sophie–now wants to be snuggled and is growing more sensitive by the day. She’s going to be a dangerous one later in life, let me tell you.
I never knew I’d question myself so much as a mom. I just hope I’m doing an okay job. You’ve been a wonderful mom and you’ve taught me so many things that I can now implement with my own kids. You taught me, among other things, that it’s okay to get dirty, to play, and to make messes. You taught me that dancing in the rain is a good thing, and that beauty can be found in the smallest of things. You taught me to take things a bit easier, to hug often, and to cherish the moments as they come. And for that, and for many many other reasons, I love you.
And if you’d like the next time we’re all together, Billy, Beth and I can climb under a blanket together again–but I warn you–Billy stinks and Beth is still a bully. I’m of course still your perfect child, but I make no guarantees about who will start the first pillow fight or blanket tug of war….heheheheheheh.
Yes, that last part was meant to be humorous. What I hope you’ll get from this blog is the realization that it only takes a moment to remind someone of what they mean to you. Yes, you may be grown with kids of your own. But your parents haven’t forgotten you—they haven’t forgotten when you were little and used to sit on their knee. Perhaps it’s time you sent a love letter to someone you love.