Sunday, December 11, 2005

Woah.

Dear L.,

Chicky, you are amazing -- every moment a new word. Tonight, you understood our conversation about your dinner. "Noodlenoodlenoodle!" You love the rice noodles we cook for you.

Last night I was out, studying and drinking too much coffee on 82nd Ave. You were home, playing hide-and-seek with dad. Over and over and over you moved from room to room, until you were wheezy. (We hope you don't have asthma.) But you were delighted.

You walked, with dad's hands, naked and skinny to where I'm sitting with my computer. You were grinning and I wondered if we should feed you more -- but you eat (and eat and eat) so I won't fret for now. In your life, how much will I worry or try not to worry about you? I received a blessing in my first trimester from a wonderful Buddhist teacher-author. She took my hands and told me that I was free of worry, I could land indeed you came into our life so easily. But now I wonder what edges of worry I will skate along with you?

This week, you will be 19 months old. And maybe, just maybe, I will finally write the story of your entry into the world. I've decided that these letters to you, they're just as much to me, so we'll see where this takes us.

Thanks you for all of your kisses.

I love you dearly and truly,
Mama

1 comment:

Unknown said...

You worrying about how much you'll worry about you daughter reminds me of something someone once said...She said she felt like after she had a child, a part of her heart was separated from her body and was walking around on its own--wonderful and yet kind of scary at the same time.