Disclaimer: This is what happens when a English major does not want to read the assigned reading…poetry. Or random words on paper. Just kidding, kind of. I’ll settle for a digitized letter to my fictitious daughter.
I wish I could tell you that I know everything, and I will see everything. So, no, you cannot date Johnny or let him take you to prom with that tacky red car. But I don’t know everything, and you probably wouldn’t believe me anyways (because you got your quick wit from me, mind you). I don’t want to pretend that I always followed the rules. I didn’t. I broke my heart a thousand times and, before meeting your father, I believed I would grow into a senile cat lady who lived in her old childhood home while her successful, younger brother went to Harvard and married a doctor. He probably will do that anyways, but I did not end up with even one cat, thank you very much.
I believe in love, Daughter. I believe in love that can conquer death and ease the emptiness in your heart, but I do not believe a boy can do that. No, I don’t even believe a man can. I believe God can, but I want you to find that out for yourself. Explore Scripture, and in the infamous words of Miss Frizzle (childhood idol), “Get messy, make mistakes!” Test and know what the truth is, and you will be rewarded. Just don’t test me, because you will not win. Child.
Daughter, you will hate studying sometimes. Okay, most of the time. In fact, you will sometimes rather throw those textbooks out the window than read another literary theory. But keep at it, because it’s going to make life that much sweeter. Yes, they will laugh at your Tolkien or C.S. Lewis books in high school, but you will one day find that fantasy can soothe a troubled mind or heart. Visiting old books will be like visiting old friends. No one can never have too many a good and faithful friend, my dear. So invest, even if it’s on one of those new iWhatevers they have these days.
So yes. Books are faithful, let’s hope you get a man who is as well. HA. Your old mom is still as funny as ever. Okay, stop groaning. Alright, alright! Forgive me for cracking a joke. I just want to tell you you are beautiful. No matter how much weight you gain. No matter how much weight you lose. You are loved. Period. No matter which boy broke your heart. No matter how many lies he told just to get a goodnight kiss, which turned into a goodbye kiss. No matter. He is nothing because you mean almost everything. No matter how cruel girls can be, I hope you stay kind. Sarcasm is great on the special occasion, but not to be whipped out at every turn. No one likes a smart aleck, I’m afraid. Just channel all that spunk into creativity and you’ll be fine. A bit neurotic, but fine. Just look at me! Excuse me young lady, did you just scoff? Anyways…
Honey, I don’t hope you are happy, faithful, loving or kind. I hope you are all of them. I know, at some point, you will be none of them because puberty happens and then, “Release the Kraaken!” HAH. Okay, ahem, sorry. I will love you when you tell me you hate me. I will love you when you think you love that boy you just met more than good ‘ol Mom and Dad. And Dad will probably beat up every guy that even tried to hurt you or break your heart. Above all that, believe it or not, God loves you more.
I will love you even when you are leaving, when your back is turned or when you don’t remember what love is. I will love you.
Because one day, love will return to you, and I want to be there. Waiting.
I love you. Don’t forget that.
Your Mom (The only one you’re going to get, kiddo.)
Yes, you can go play with your iPerson now.