Sophia, Me, Zia and Adrian the cat. Photo taken in 2015.
I know you don’t read my blog posts, so for me it is sort of funny to publicly share a little secret meant for you that I know you won’t see for many years, if ever.
Every so often I write short letters to you. There’s no routine or schedule for this, and it doesn’t happen very often, maybe two or three times a year, or whenever a moment strikes me. It’s been a while since I wrote the last one, but as I was contemplating what my writing topic for today would be, I decided to look through my folder of half-finished posts for some ideas. I happened upon one of these little notes I’d written for Zia. Here’s what it says:
Zia,
It’s 10:12 am, two days before Christmas in 2014. You’re five-years-old, and you’re amazing. You’re in your room right now cleaning it up. You made your bed and came out to have me go look. Your next plan is to put everything else into one big pile, and I’ll help you sort through it. What’s amazing is your happiness. I can hear you singing. You always sing. It’s great. I hope this never ever fades away from you. Your sweet little warble fills the house and it makes my heart so, so very happy.
Your sister is cleaning her room, too. I think. She might just be talking to her friend Tila on the iPad. But I think she’s cleaning, too. You two have gotten along so well recently. It’s really nice when you guys get along.
I just wanted to write this and capture the moment. You are beautiful, amazing, and wonderful, and I love you so much. I always will.
Love you kiddo.
Mom
There are quite a lot more of these little notes, but this is the one that I popped open.
Usually, I type these little notes then print, and put them in a folder in the fire-proof safe in the garage. Each of you has a folder in there with important documents like birth certificates, immunization records, and such, I guess I imagined that one day when I’m not around any longer and you’re sorting through these things, you might discover these little notes and maybe you’ll smile about them. Your smiles are everything to me.
These notes aren’t terribly deep, but they’re very personal. I want you to know that I saw some very tiny precious moments and I took a few minutes to hug those moments as they happened.
Life moves so quickly and it’s easy to be constantly distracted. One day I hope you’ll look back and know that I cared about these moments that may have seemed like fairly insignificant ones in passing, but they made my heart smile. I was watching you simply exist, and in some way, I was more present than I probably appeared. I wasn’t too busy to see each of you for who you are.
I see you. I love you.
Mom