Letter to Daughter XVII

Sweetest C,

Yes, honey, sweeter than peaches (which thankfully you have taken to -- finally a fruit, and not a new flavour of chips). Things have been tighter than we had expected, and though you approve of your where you are "do-poopy", and your "soomming-pool", I know it deep within that things haven't been right at your new school. Friends aren't as nice as the ones you have left behind. To top it, Tucks too has growled more than necessary at the most unexpected times. Mommy has been missing for more time than you ever knew. I will share a secret with you and leave it under your pillow, so that when you wake up and do not find me you can read it, may be today, may be tomorrow, may be when I am no longer, may be when you finally are able to.

The secret, my love is, within each of us are different people, lurking -- and waiting to take upon the natural self. One might me mighty with its evil intention of making you dark, with anger, jealousy or even thickly sad. A sadness that you can never explain, even to yourself. Even when walls around you are orange, and chairs green. Things have a tendency to turn unpalatable. While I say that there is always a chance you must give yourself, and life keeps giving you, you must never, I repeat never give them faces a chance to turn to phases. 

To do that, it takes a shredder like ability to slice the spirit; the beautiful dawn and uneven dusk appeal no more, but the wheels (as we know) keep moving, and one push, or one kick into the ignition and things begin to roll better. All your Nike t-shirts and hot pants that say "Just do it", mean a thing. A great thing indeed. It means, hold your breath, to just do it.  Munchkin, Momie still doesn't believe that her stories are loved, but when you smile at one, Momie needs no other assurance. What you gotta do, you gotta do, love.

Sweetie, it takes nothing to lose, but when you desire to win, it takes your will to work, endlessly, to just keep moving, in spite of the odds, the colours that do not match, and the games that you lose, don't count, for when you put touch the shine on the medal, all the pain dissipates. Momie not only doesn't have new friends, the problem is, she does not even want newer ones, and when they come in plenty, that, again, is a pain which persists.

Just one moment when that inside person in you takes over, force yourself to think of ALL the people outside yourself who you owe to be who you are, happy, and to yourself of course, you owe it even greater. When I return to a sleepy you, it saddens me that I have missed listening to your adventures of the day, none the less, when you curl in to me, in the middle of the night, like it were always meant to be, a presence more than any rainwashed absence, nothing makes more sense. Or showers more wins. You will always have your friend in me.

I do in you,

Momie.