Aby suggested I share this letter I wrote to him.
Who it is I want to be:
She climbs and she dances, she runs until she can’t breathe.
She laughs, and the sun catches the strands of her hair. She scales mountains and sprints up hills, flying. She befriends dogs and tracks rabbits. She sings.
She spends most of her days outside, and lights a campfire when it’s too dark to see but she still doesn’t want to go in. The stars keep her company when she can’t find dry wood. Her inside is her home, housing books and a kitchen and every warmth. She bakes there, and reads there, and makes pretty things there.
She cartwheels on both sides with equal agility. She could do a pull-up if she pleased. She finds treasures. She welcomes hard labor because she knows it is the surest way to feel alive. She plants and she hunts and she’s best friends with her pup. She blows all the fuzz off of dandelions in one fell swoop.
She’s a great mom, when she is a mom. Her heart belongs to you.