Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Anyone.
Dear Stranger,
I am aware of myself. I have tattoo's, and stuff in my face, and I generally wear bright clothes that do not always match. You can look at me. You can come ask me what my tattoo's are and if they hurt, and what those things are sticking out under my eyes. You can say, "Nice tat's bro!" and I will thank you. You can look at my husband and treat him the same. You can look at my kids and notice how fantastically unique they both are, and assume it is because my husband and I are who we are.
You can do all of those things, but what you cannot do is assume that I am trash. Assume that because I look a certain way I am not fit to be a mom, or wife, and the same for my husband. You cannot look at me and guess the reason I look how I do is because I need you, or anyone else, to look at me. You cannot look at my children and feel sorry that they have me as a mom- that they will somehow always be judged by people like you because of me. Do not say things to me like, "You would be so pretty without all that stuff all over you." Do not feel sorry for me assuming that I have clearly had some awful life. Do not think that you need to introduce me to Jesus.
Stop judging me. Stop judging my family and my friends. Stop judging anyone whether they are just like you or nothing like you. I have a feeling, if we could all stop playing judge, (myself included), we would learn so much from each other. We would learn what it means to be in community with our peers- unity and love. This world is a mess, the least we could do as individuals is to love and accept the few people we come in contact with in our own little worlds.
I wrote this for you, but for me too.
-Brooks
To the Woman at the Gas Station
Several years ago, I stopped by the local gas station to pick up a pack of cigarettes. I was in a hurry. I was a single mom. I believe I was rushing into work, after having dropped the children off at daycare. I was stressed. I was always stressed then. Life was dark and unhappy and lonely and full of uncertainties. I asked the cashier for a pack of Marlboro Lights as you were standing behind me in line. I sensed that you were there, but I didn't notice until later that you were older, probably in your 50's, and that you had a pleasant, open face. After I paid for my purchase, I quickly turned on my heels to head out the door. You put your hand on my arm. You looked directly into my eyes and you said "You are SO beautiful." I paused and I stammered a "thank you" and headed off to work. A smile crept onto my face. It made my entire day. In fact, considering it's been at least four years and I still remember the exchange, it had a profound and lasting effect on me.
When I was a child and heavily involved in church, someone once told me that angels walk among us. We might never recognize them as angels, because they appear in human form, just like us. I was fascinated by the idea. Now, as an adult, and an atheist, I don't believe in such things. But you bent that disbelief just long enough for me to question and ponder it. And I decided, that if not an angel, then you at least appeared in my life, ever so briefly, to confirm that kindness is not dead. It is alive and well and it is thriving in places you'd least expect it. Thank you for that.
Love, Rae
When I was a child and heavily involved in church, someone once told me that angels walk among us. We might never recognize them as angels, because they appear in human form, just like us. I was fascinated by the idea. Now, as an adult, and an atheist, I don't believe in such things. But you bent that disbelief just long enough for me to question and ponder it. And I decided, that if not an angel, then you at least appeared in my life, ever so briefly, to confirm that kindness is not dead. It is alive and well and it is thriving in places you'd least expect it. Thank you for that.
Love, Rae
Dear Judgmental Teens from Dairy Queen-
I saw the looks you were giving us the other night as my three-year-old smeared his ice cream cone all over his face. I saw you scowl at me as I laughed and smiled at him. I saw you mumble and mutter to each other. I tried to talk to you, to include you in the joke, but you continued to scowl.
I could tell that you were judging me, my child, my parenting, his behavior, and pretty much everything about me. I could tell that you instantly labeled him a brat. I knew that you believed that he was a brat because of some shortcoming of mine.It was written all over your face, it was unmistakable.
Here's the thing, while I agree that smearing vanilla ice cream all over one's face is not usually the most socially acceptable thing to do, I know that my sweet boy just wanted to make everyone smile. In return, all that he asked was that everyone smile at him and maybe laugh.
My son is a people person. He loves being around people and he remembers almost everyone he meets. He still asks for friends that moved away more than a year ago, because they still matter to him. He just wanted to impress you and all he received from you was a scowl. I just want you to know that.
Ice cream is easily cleaned. It's sticky and a mess, but it's not one of those messes you can never come back from. Sometimes, a little ice cream mess is worth the smiles and the memory. In this case it was, and I don't appreciate your judgment.
Living with a three-year-old is not easy. We fight a lot, we are odds all day most days. I look forward to sending him to school because I feel like all that I do is yell at him. You should judge me for that, rather than letting him smear himself with vanilla goodness. Certainly my lack of patience and understanding for my child is more of a crime than my letting him act like a kid and have some fun.
I hope that you realize these things when you finally have kids. It would be better if you learned them before, that way the next time a child wants a smile, you will oblige. Smiling works more muscles anyways.
Regards,
Molly
I could tell that you were judging me, my child, my parenting, his behavior, and pretty much everything about me. I could tell that you instantly labeled him a brat. I knew that you believed that he was a brat because of some shortcoming of mine.It was written all over your face, it was unmistakable.
Here's the thing, while I agree that smearing vanilla ice cream all over one's face is not usually the most socially acceptable thing to do, I know that my sweet boy just wanted to make everyone smile. In return, all that he asked was that everyone smile at him and maybe laugh.
My son is a people person. He loves being around people and he remembers almost everyone he meets. He still asks for friends that moved away more than a year ago, because they still matter to him. He just wanted to impress you and all he received from you was a scowl. I just want you to know that.
Ice cream is easily cleaned. It's sticky and a mess, but it's not one of those messes you can never come back from. Sometimes, a little ice cream mess is worth the smiles and the memory. In this case it was, and I don't appreciate your judgment.
Living with a three-year-old is not easy. We fight a lot, we are odds all day most days. I look forward to sending him to school because I feel like all that I do is yell at him. You should judge me for that, rather than letting him smear himself with vanilla goodness. Certainly my lack of patience and understanding for my child is more of a crime than my letting him act like a kid and have some fun.
I hope that you realize these things when you finally have kids. It would be better if you learned them before, that way the next time a child wants a smile, you will oblige. Smiling works more muscles anyways.
Regards,
Molly
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Dear Lonely Forest-
What do you mean? No, really, what do you mean? I keep visiting you and you always leave me feeling cold and empty. Don't you know that not being able to find Dave as I wander aimlessly through your trees is torture? I hate the feeling that he is just beyond my reach and that he keeps turning behind a tree or down the path just before I can catch sight of him. Dave is my safety, my comfort, my happiness and you always hide him and I don't like it.
And why are you always snowy? It doesn't snow that much here and so if I were lost in a forest here, it would likely be rainy and not snowy. This is what I tell myself when I wake up, freaking out, having trouble breathing. I remind myself that I live in Washington and that you, Lonely Forest, are probably not real. Also, your trees are really bare and sad and the trees here are mostly coniferous and are rarely bare. So take that, Forest, you are fake, I don't know why I let you get to me.
I have a feeling that during deployment, you are going to torment me with your snow and your cold and your feeling of helplessness. I am not looking forward to it. I am hoping that one night while you are torturing me I will suddenly remember that Dave is asleep next to me and give my dream self the brilliant idea to light a match and burn you down.
No one likes you, Lonely Forest. Leave me alone.
Sincerely,
Molly
And why are you always snowy? It doesn't snow that much here and so if I were lost in a forest here, it would likely be rainy and not snowy. This is what I tell myself when I wake up, freaking out, having trouble breathing. I remind myself that I live in Washington and that you, Lonely Forest, are probably not real. Also, your trees are really bare and sad and the trees here are mostly coniferous and are rarely bare. So take that, Forest, you are fake, I don't know why I let you get to me.
I have a feeling that during deployment, you are going to torment me with your snow and your cold and your feeling of helplessness. I am not looking forward to it. I am hoping that one night while you are torturing me I will suddenly remember that Dave is asleep next to me and give my dream self the brilliant idea to light a match and burn you down.
No one likes you, Lonely Forest. Leave me alone.
Sincerely,
Molly
Dear Dreams
First, you told me that I wanted to have twelve children and name them all with "A" names. What the hell were you thinking?
Later, in the 8th grade, you told me that I wanted to be a rapper. (I'm still laughing about that one.) Luckily, it didn't take long for you to change your mind.
After that, you morphed into a dream of being a female rock star and you convinced me to buy a bass guitar and learn how to play it. I'm sure you weren't counting on the fact that, musically, I have only mediocre talent.
Later, you tried to be sensible and told me that I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. It's a good thing I eventually ignored that advice, as having my own children would make me realize that I don't like other people's children very much.
You tried one last stab at being completely unrealistic, when you thought I should backpack around Europe.
And then, fresh out of high school, two nearly back-to-back, unplanned pregnancies silenced you.
You gave me small and common hopes. Potty train this kid. Get that kid through his biting phase. Get a raise. Work on your marriage. Pay off your debt. Decorate your home. You smartly knew I could only see a few months into the future.
Eventually, you gave me a burning and undeniable desire for a little girl, which Nature thumbed its nose at by giving me two more little boys. You attempted to make me believe that I was devastated, that I would forever be incomplete without a daughter. You were wrong.
Throughout the years, you poked and prodded at the ever present buzz inside of my soul that told me I should be writing. Not washing dishes. Not changing diapers. Not attending soccer practices, but Just.Writing. You have made me feel guilty for the inability to fully throw myself into my craft.
A few years ago, you told me I needed to own a home and I obliged. And when my marriage failed, and I was forced to leave the home we had worked so hard for, you brought me up out of the wreckage to convince me that not only would I find my soulmate, I would successfully make it through six years of college to become a librarian. All on my own.
I walked ten steps backwards into a life I didn't know anymore and I started from scratch. And it was then, in the utter emptiness, that I had an awakening.
Every day that I am alive, I am living my dream. It is there, in every step I take. As I fold the sheets, as I send children out to play, as I read a novel in the tub, as I inhale the roses in our garden that have just begun to unfold. In every waking moment, you are there. When my baby's body is curled up against mine in the dark. When I am crying and when I am laughing. When I am silent and angry and when I am content and at peace. This life, this precious life that has been granted me; it is my dream.
I know your game. I have figured you out and you can't fool me anymore. I will not allow you to stifle me by sucking me into a future, more perfect world. From here on out, I know better.
Rae
"Many of us think that happiness is not possible in the present moment. Most of us believe that there are a few more conditions that need to be met before we can be happy. This is why we are sucked into the future and are not capable of being present in the here and now. This is why we step over many of the wonders of life." -Thich Nhat Hahn
Later, in the 8th grade, you told me that I wanted to be a rapper. (I'm still laughing about that one.) Luckily, it didn't take long for you to change your mind.
After that, you morphed into a dream of being a female rock star and you convinced me to buy a bass guitar and learn how to play it. I'm sure you weren't counting on the fact that, musically, I have only mediocre talent.
Later, you tried to be sensible and told me that I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. It's a good thing I eventually ignored that advice, as having my own children would make me realize that I don't like other people's children very much.
You tried one last stab at being completely unrealistic, when you thought I should backpack around Europe.
And then, fresh out of high school, two nearly back-to-back, unplanned pregnancies silenced you.
You gave me small and common hopes. Potty train this kid. Get that kid through his biting phase. Get a raise. Work on your marriage. Pay off your debt. Decorate your home. You smartly knew I could only see a few months into the future.
Eventually, you gave me a burning and undeniable desire for a little girl, which Nature thumbed its nose at by giving me two more little boys. You attempted to make me believe that I was devastated, that I would forever be incomplete without a daughter. You were wrong.
Throughout the years, you poked and prodded at the ever present buzz inside of my soul that told me I should be writing. Not washing dishes. Not changing diapers. Not attending soccer practices, but Just.Writing. You have made me feel guilty for the inability to fully throw myself into my craft.
A few years ago, you told me I needed to own a home and I obliged. And when my marriage failed, and I was forced to leave the home we had worked so hard for, you brought me up out of the wreckage to convince me that not only would I find my soulmate, I would successfully make it through six years of college to become a librarian. All on my own.
I walked ten steps backwards into a life I didn't know anymore and I started from scratch. And it was then, in the utter emptiness, that I had an awakening.
Every day that I am alive, I am living my dream. It is there, in every step I take. As I fold the sheets, as I send children out to play, as I read a novel in the tub, as I inhale the roses in our garden that have just begun to unfold. In every waking moment, you are there. When my baby's body is curled up against mine in the dark. When I am crying and when I am laughing. When I am silent and angry and when I am content and at peace. This life, this precious life that has been granted me; it is my dream.
I know your game. I have figured you out and you can't fool me anymore. I will not allow you to stifle me by sucking me into a future, more perfect world. From here on out, I know better.
Rae
"Many of us think that happiness is not possible in the present moment. Most of us believe that there are a few more conditions that need to be met before we can be happy. This is why we are sucked into the future and are not capable of being present in the here and now. This is why we step over many of the wonders of life." -Thich Nhat Hahn
To Dream.
Dear Dreams,
I don't believe you can all come true. I don't believe if I reach for the stars and miss I will land on a cloud. I only kind of sort of believe I can be anything I want to be, and do whatever I set my mind to. Maybe I believe that last one, but am just too lazy to take full ownership of the belief because it would mean work. And rejection. And possibly debt. I think the real problem though, is that I have too many desires to label any one of them a dream. A "dream" implies that once it has come to fruition one may die happy.
I want to own a stellar pizza place, have a masters in psychology and spend time working in an addiction rehabilitation center, live in a mud hut in Africa as a missionary, own a thrift store, write a book- write a few books, spend my middle life traveling around the US in an Airstream trailer with Travis...to name a few. I don't know how to decide where to start, much less start actually working towards any of it. I have two little kids and as of right now, my job is to raise them. Where does all the dreaming fit in? I know lots of people have little kids and go to school full time and work full time and sit in Starbucks and write award winning novels while their babies rest in carriers--but all that seems more like hell then dreaming.
I don't want to work in misery to live a dream. I keep waiting for God to give me some glimpse of the larger picture so I have a clue as to what dream is even intended for me by Him...as for now, I mostly only dream when I am sleeping.
-Brooks
I don't believe you can all come true. I don't believe if I reach for the stars and miss I will land on a cloud. I only kind of sort of believe I can be anything I want to be, and do whatever I set my mind to. Maybe I believe that last one, but am just too lazy to take full ownership of the belief because it would mean work. And rejection. And possibly debt. I think the real problem though, is that I have too many desires to label any one of them a dream. A "dream" implies that once it has come to fruition one may die happy.
I want to own a stellar pizza place, have a masters in psychology and spend time working in an addiction rehabilitation center, live in a mud hut in Africa as a missionary, own a thrift store, write a book- write a few books, spend my middle life traveling around the US in an Airstream trailer with Travis...to name a few. I don't know how to decide where to start, much less start actually working towards any of it. I have two little kids and as of right now, my job is to raise them. Where does all the dreaming fit in? I know lots of people have little kids and go to school full time and work full time and sit in Starbucks and write award winning novels while their babies rest in carriers--but all that seems more like hell then dreaming.
I don't want to work in misery to live a dream. I keep waiting for God to give me some glimpse of the larger picture so I have a clue as to what dream is even intended for me by Him...as for now, I mostly only dream when I am sleeping.
-Brooks
Monday, August 29, 2011
Dave
Mom says that when I was young, I used to pray for a little brother. Apparently, I wanted a black brother, which I didn't get, but you were close enough. Since we were both adopted, you look nothing like me. You have dark hair and big brown eyes and olive skin and people probably wonder how in the hell we're siblings. I guess you were close enough to black to please me. :) I was so excited to have a brother. I remember picking you up from the hospital. I remember, at five years old, being in awe of your tiny-ness. From that moment onward, I toted you around everywhere. You were the typical little brother. We played the greatest games. Do you remember moving to Bellevue and playing "traffic jam", where we lined up all of our toy cars in the living room? Do you remember when I would stick up for you at recess when someone was bothering you? You were the cutest, silliest, funniest kid in the entire world. Your big puppy dog eyes and chubby cheeks made grown ups swoon. I was so proud of you. And then I got older, and I turned into a horrific teenager and you annoyed me constantly and we fought like cats and dogs. I threw a fork at your forehead. We chased each other around with kitchen knives when Mom and Dad weren't home. You were the nagging little brother and I forgot how much we enjoyed each other when I was a kid. I'm glad we've mended those fences now. I made it through adolescence, and so did you. Now, you're the cool uncle who buys my kids the most expensive gifts. You are still childlike and they love that about you. You have the most awesome DVD collection I've ever seen. You love baseball more than anyone in the entire world. You've become a cool adult, and I'm still proud of you.
Love, Rae
Love, Rae
Em.
Dear Emily,
It makes me proud that when I am asked to write a letter to my sibling, I have you to write to- and I won't have to spend the entire time angry and yelling for you to act right. I am so proud of who you are. I am proud of the head on your shoulders, and not just because it is pretty.
I spent a large part of our relationship being jealous of you. First for being the new baby, later for being the model and actress. Mixed in was resentment that you and mom have always been so close, your relationship so different from the one I have had with her. None of this was your fault, just my own issues- but I recently completed some intense therapy and worked through all of them, and now I fully appreciate everything about who you are. (That last sentence was meant to be funny, but it is also true.)
I love that you are following your dreams. I don't understand the desire to be a model- for the reasons you seem to want it. I can only equate that desire with the need to be desired, but I know that is not who you are. I only understand the desire to be an actress a tiny shred more than the model thing. I think fame is a monster, and not because Lady Gaga called it that. BUT that to say, you are reaching for stars, which is something I am only now learning to do. It inspires me. You inspire me. I hope all of your dreams come true, and I hope you remain exactly who you are living those dreams.
I love that you are close with mom. I know you two have your moments, sometimes days or weeks- but it makes me happy to know that you two share a sort of closeness that I didn't have with her in my youth. Don't ever take it for granted. No matter how bonkers she is sometimes, or what she might say or do, or tell you you can't do, she loves you terribly, so be patient with her. She is a mom, and I understand what that is like.
Lastly, I will say here what I have said to you so many times in person- and I know it is not necessary, because you know, but....boys are douche bags- don't ever forget it. There are diamonds among the rough, but mostly it's just rough- so make sure you have a diamond before you put it on your finger- and this has nothing to do with marriage. It also takes more than a quick glance to determine the quality of a diamond...so keep your microscope handy.
I love you Emily Nicole Loewen. I am proud to be your sister, even in public, when you are dressed better, look fresher and are towering over me.
PS. Unicorn meatballs. (Y)
It makes me proud that when I am asked to write a letter to my sibling, I have you to write to- and I won't have to spend the entire time angry and yelling for you to act right. I am so proud of who you are. I am proud of the head on your shoulders, and not just because it is pretty.
I spent a large part of our relationship being jealous of you. First for being the new baby, later for being the model and actress. Mixed in was resentment that you and mom have always been so close, your relationship so different from the one I have had with her. None of this was your fault, just my own issues- but I recently completed some intense therapy and worked through all of them, and now I fully appreciate everything about who you are. (That last sentence was meant to be funny, but it is also true.)
I love that you are following your dreams. I don't understand the desire to be a model- for the reasons you seem to want it. I can only equate that desire with the need to be desired, but I know that is not who you are. I only understand the desire to be an actress a tiny shred more than the model thing. I think fame is a monster, and not because Lady Gaga called it that. BUT that to say, you are reaching for stars, which is something I am only now learning to do. It inspires me. You inspire me. I hope all of your dreams come true, and I hope you remain exactly who you are living those dreams.
I love that you are close with mom. I know you two have your moments, sometimes days or weeks- but it makes me happy to know that you two share a sort of closeness that I didn't have with her in my youth. Don't ever take it for granted. No matter how bonkers she is sometimes, or what she might say or do, or tell you you can't do, she loves you terribly, so be patient with her. She is a mom, and I understand what that is like.
Lastly, I will say here what I have said to you so many times in person- and I know it is not necessary, because you know, but....boys are douche bags- don't ever forget it. There are diamonds among the rough, but mostly it's just rough- so make sure you have a diamond before you put it on your finger- and this has nothing to do with marriage. It also takes more than a quick glance to determine the quality of a diamond...so keep your microscope handy.
I love you Emily Nicole Loewen. I am proud to be your sister, even in public, when you are dressed better, look fresher and are towering over me.
PS. Unicorn meatballs. (Y)
Dear Kena-
My dearest sister, I want to start out by saying that I love you more than words can say. You're more than my sister, you are my friend and you are a darn good friend.
Growing up, I always felt really lonely. You and our other siblings are all so much older than me that it never even seemed like I had a brother and sisters. I always really wished that I would fit in with you guys and that someday we would be close. It took a while because of the age difference, but now we are and I think it's amazing. In fact, I wouldn't want it the other way at all. I wouldn't want to be close growing up and then distant as adults. I would much rather have you as a friend now that I am an adult than as a playmate as a child. I'm glad that things worked out the way that they did.
In the past several years, I have watched you evolve as a person. You said goodbye to a marriage, your children have grown up, and you had to make changes and start to focus on yourself when you hadn't for a very long time. That's a difficult process. It's especially difficult for someone who grew up too fast and took on too much responsibility too soon in life. As a part of that process, I've seen you do things that I know you are not proud of and you have made some choices that you know I didn't like. I've always been honest with you, I haven't held back. I tell you when I think you are making a mistake because I think that that's what you do when you really care for someone.
I want you to know that I am proud of you, even when I think you are making mistakes. I want you to know that I think that the journey that you are on is amazing and I know that you will emerge victorious. I think that having to discover and find yourself in your mid-thirties is probably ridiculously hard and I commend you for not being afraid to do it. I'll love you no matter where this journey takes you, even when I may not like what you're doing.
Love,
Molly
Growing up, I always felt really lonely. You and our other siblings are all so much older than me that it never even seemed like I had a brother and sisters. I always really wished that I would fit in with you guys and that someday we would be close. It took a while because of the age difference, but now we are and I think it's amazing. In fact, I wouldn't want it the other way at all. I wouldn't want to be close growing up and then distant as adults. I would much rather have you as a friend now that I am an adult than as a playmate as a child. I'm glad that things worked out the way that they did.
In the past several years, I have watched you evolve as a person. You said goodbye to a marriage, your children have grown up, and you had to make changes and start to focus on yourself when you hadn't for a very long time. That's a difficult process. It's especially difficult for someone who grew up too fast and took on too much responsibility too soon in life. As a part of that process, I've seen you do things that I know you are not proud of and you have made some choices that you know I didn't like. I've always been honest with you, I haven't held back. I tell you when I think you are making a mistake because I think that that's what you do when you really care for someone.
I want you to know that I am proud of you, even when I think you are making mistakes. I want you to know that I think that the journey that you are on is amazing and I know that you will emerge victorious. I think that having to discover and find yourself in your mid-thirties is probably ridiculously hard and I commend you for not being afraid to do it. I'll love you no matter where this journey takes you, even when I may not like what you're doing.
Love,
Molly
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Mother-in-law
It’s taken me awhile to write this letter. You’ve been gone for four months now. I wish that last fall, for Jack’s first birthday party, I would have told you then to march yourself straight to the doctor after the very first time I heard that hacking, chronic cough. I wish that the last time I spoke to you, I would have known then that in less than a month, you would be dead. I wouldn’t have been able to warn you then, to save you, but perhaps I could have said the things I am ready to say right now.
You were the quintessential grandmother, and my kids are lucky to have had you. As a mother in law, you were overbearing and it took me years to understand that your intentions were always good. You tried to bond with me then, taking me on weekend trips and trying to catch a flicker of an interest I might have in common with you. You heard that I liked butterflies and on every special occasion I would receive a beautiful wrapped, butterfly themed gift. You were more generous than anyone I have ever known. When you visited, your arms were never empty. Vegetables from the garden, fresh fruit, clothes for the kids, homemade blackberry jam, new towels or sheets and you always justified it by saying “it was on sale” or “we won’t ever be able to eat all of this”, but in time, I knew better. You gave for the sheer joy that it brought you. I remember the days of complaining. “Why couldn’t she ask me what I need and then bring that? Why does she only bring what she thinks we need?” I always saw you pushing your advice into every crevice of our life, whether we wanted it or not. I realize now that you were only trying to help, in the only way you knew how.
I left your son, multiple times, and during those times of separation, you never contacted me. I griped about it then, at how easily I thought your love could fade, but what I didn’t see was that every time we reconciled, you welcomed me back with open arms. You didn’t speak about the past; you treated me as if nothing had ever happened, and you picked up exactly where we had left off. I was never judged for my decisions.
There were times I heard you quickly say “I love you” as we parted and I would brush it off as a slip of the tongue. I never said it back, too embarassed by that kind of display of emotion. Today, I wish I would have reciprocated.
You were ceaseless, amazing, never tiring of standing in the kitchen or serving food or caring for us in a way that I fear I’ll never learn. I wonder now if you knew there was something terribly wrong, if you could sense disease spreading inside of you. I wonder if you knew it was coming, but kept it to yourself until the last possible moment, when it couldn’t be hidden away anymore. You never would have wanted to burden us with your illness.
Over time, I grew to admire you, to respect you, to find excuses to call you and linger on the phone until the conversation dwindled.
You raised a good man, one with faults and demons like the rest of us, but a good, hardworking, loyal man who loved the hell out of his family just like you did.
I was there, at the memorial. They wanted me to sit in the front row with the rest of the family, but the divorce was impending and I felt like an intruder. I sat to the side, with my own mother, and she clutched my hand as the lump in my throat grew large and unmanageable and I felt the tears bubble up inside me so fiercely that my chest finally gave in and I sobbed from the weight of it all.
I miss you, and even though they don’t ever vocalize it, the children miss you too. You are still in the air around us, all the time. I think of you as I pour boiling water over a fruit juice stain on a child size t-shirt. I see you hunched over the sewing machine as I fold the quilts. I open the box of Jack’s clothes, the next season’s size, and I find items you purchased, things you’ll never see him wear.
Thank you for your life, for unconditional love, for giving me so many things my own family did not exemplify. Our world is a little less beautiful without you in it, but I know we are blessed to have been given the time that we had with you. I will forever be changed by the mark you left on my life, and in many ways, I will always be striving to give my children what you gave your own. One fruit juice stained t-shirt at a time.
You were the quintessential grandmother, and my kids are lucky to have had you. As a mother in law, you were overbearing and it took me years to understand that your intentions were always good. You tried to bond with me then, taking me on weekend trips and trying to catch a flicker of an interest I might have in common with you. You heard that I liked butterflies and on every special occasion I would receive a beautiful wrapped, butterfly themed gift. You were more generous than anyone I have ever known. When you visited, your arms were never empty. Vegetables from the garden, fresh fruit, clothes for the kids, homemade blackberry jam, new towels or sheets and you always justified it by saying “it was on sale” or “we won’t ever be able to eat all of this”, but in time, I knew better. You gave for the sheer joy that it brought you. I remember the days of complaining. “Why couldn’t she ask me what I need and then bring that? Why does she only bring what she thinks we need?” I always saw you pushing your advice into every crevice of our life, whether we wanted it or not. I realize now that you were only trying to help, in the only way you knew how.
I left your son, multiple times, and during those times of separation, you never contacted me. I griped about it then, at how easily I thought your love could fade, but what I didn’t see was that every time we reconciled, you welcomed me back with open arms. You didn’t speak about the past; you treated me as if nothing had ever happened, and you picked up exactly where we had left off. I was never judged for my decisions.
There were times I heard you quickly say “I love you” as we parted and I would brush it off as a slip of the tongue. I never said it back, too embarassed by that kind of display of emotion. Today, I wish I would have reciprocated.
You were ceaseless, amazing, never tiring of standing in the kitchen or serving food or caring for us in a way that I fear I’ll never learn. I wonder now if you knew there was something terribly wrong, if you could sense disease spreading inside of you. I wonder if you knew it was coming, but kept it to yourself until the last possible moment, when it couldn’t be hidden away anymore. You never would have wanted to burden us with your illness.
Over time, I grew to admire you, to respect you, to find excuses to call you and linger on the phone until the conversation dwindled.
You raised a good man, one with faults and demons like the rest of us, but a good, hardworking, loyal man who loved the hell out of his family just like you did.
I was there, at the memorial. They wanted me to sit in the front row with the rest of the family, but the divorce was impending and I felt like an intruder. I sat to the side, with my own mother, and she clutched my hand as the lump in my throat grew large and unmanageable and I felt the tears bubble up inside me so fiercely that my chest finally gave in and I sobbed from the weight of it all.
I miss you, and even though they don’t ever vocalize it, the children miss you too. You are still in the air around us, all the time. I think of you as I pour boiling water over a fruit juice stain on a child size t-shirt. I see you hunched over the sewing machine as I fold the quilts. I open the box of Jack’s clothes, the next season’s size, and I find items you purchased, things you’ll never see him wear.
Thank you for your life, for unconditional love, for giving me so many things my own family did not exemplify. Our world is a little less beautiful without you in it, but I know we are blessed to have been given the time that we had with you. I will forever be changed by the mark you left on my life, and in many ways, I will always be striving to give my children what you gave your own. One fruit juice stained t-shirt at a time.
Mom and Dad.
Dear Mom and Dad,
There are a lot of things I feel like I could say when given the opportunity to write the two of you a letter collaboratively. I don't know how much of it I actually will say, because I am not sure all things are things the world needs to know. What I will say is thank you. Thank you for being awesome people together or apart. Thank you for doing the best you could with what you had- even if looking back it doesn't seem like that was the case. Thank you for always praying for me, even when I am sure it felt hopeless. Thank you for accepting the person I was and have become. I never ever ever question whether I was loved by either of you. This fact, above all things means the most. As a parent when I think about raising my own kids, all I care about is making sure that they KNOW that they KNOW that they KNOW that I love and accept them NO MATTER WHAT, and that God loves and accepts them NO MATTER WHAT. I feel like if I can accomplish that I have done my job as a parent. You guys accomplished that in me. Everyday I am reminded how blessed I am to have two loving, caring, thoughtful parents who even though they aren't together, love each other just as much as they love me. I am aware that this is SO rare, and I am beyond grateful. I love you both with my whole heart, always and forever, no matter what.
Love,
Brooksie
There are a lot of things I feel like I could say when given the opportunity to write the two of you a letter collaboratively. I don't know how much of it I actually will say, because I am not sure all things are things the world needs to know. What I will say is thank you. Thank you for being awesome people together or apart. Thank you for doing the best you could with what you had- even if looking back it doesn't seem like that was the case. Thank you for always praying for me, even when I am sure it felt hopeless. Thank you for accepting the person I was and have become. I never ever ever question whether I was loved by either of you. This fact, above all things means the most. As a parent when I think about raising my own kids, all I care about is making sure that they KNOW that they KNOW that they KNOW that I love and accept them NO MATTER WHAT, and that God loves and accepts them NO MATTER WHAT. I feel like if I can accomplish that I have done my job as a parent. You guys accomplished that in me. Everyday I am reminded how blessed I am to have two loving, caring, thoughtful parents who even though they aren't together, love each other just as much as they love me. I am aware that this is SO rare, and I am beyond grateful. I love you both with my whole heart, always and forever, no matter what.
Love,
Brooksie
A Letter to My Divorced Parents.
Dear Mom and Dad-
Writing a letter to the two of you as a couple is really weird. You guys have been divorced since I was very small. By the time I was three, I had been alive longer than your marriage lasted.
First, I would like to thank you for getting a divorce. You are two of the most incompatible people I have ever met. I have trouble even understanding how the two of you could have been friends, let alone how you wound up married to one another. Even without knowing what your marriage was like, I would have assumed the whole thing was a disaster.
I think that, all too often, people do that whole "stay together for the kids" thing and end up miserable for thirty years. Then, the kids are gone but they have been together for so long that they don't know how to live without each other but they also can't really stand each other. I am very glad that somewhere in the midst of the drug and alcohol induced turmoil that was "Anne and Ken," you guys recognized that.
I truly think that I grew up to be an intelligent, kind, caring, decent human being. I do not think that I would have grown up to be a functioning human being if you two had stayed together. I thank you for your divorce for that reason. You are both recovering addicts and I do not think you would each have over a decade of sobriety to brag about if you had stayed married. This is another reason that I am glad you guys are divorced, and have been for over two decades.
You guys were probably the kind of couple that would have ended up on a made for T.V. movie. I am really glad that I did not become a Lifetime character because you felt the need to stay married for me. Can you imagine if the two of you had more children? That would have been an absolute train wreck. Seriously, guys, good on ya for separating. I'm glad that the experience taught you both to choose your mates more carefully. What were you thinking?
Love,
Molly
Writing a letter to the two of you as a couple is really weird. You guys have been divorced since I was very small. By the time I was three, I had been alive longer than your marriage lasted.
First, I would like to thank you for getting a divorce. You are two of the most incompatible people I have ever met. I have trouble even understanding how the two of you could have been friends, let alone how you wound up married to one another. Even without knowing what your marriage was like, I would have assumed the whole thing was a disaster.
I think that, all too often, people do that whole "stay together for the kids" thing and end up miserable for thirty years. Then, the kids are gone but they have been together for so long that they don't know how to live without each other but they also can't really stand each other. I am very glad that somewhere in the midst of the drug and alcohol induced turmoil that was "Anne and Ken," you guys recognized that.
I truly think that I grew up to be an intelligent, kind, caring, decent human being. I do not think that I would have grown up to be a functioning human being if you two had stayed together. I thank you for your divorce for that reason. You are both recovering addicts and I do not think you would each have over a decade of sobriety to brag about if you had stayed married. This is another reason that I am glad you guys are divorced, and have been for over two decades.
You guys were probably the kind of couple that would have ended up on a made for T.V. movie. I am really glad that I did not become a Lifetime character because you felt the need to stay married for me. Can you imagine if the two of you had more children? That would have been an absolute train wreck. Seriously, guys, good on ya for separating. I'm glad that the experience taught you both to choose your mates more carefully. What were you thinking?
Love,
Molly
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Dear Dave-
As of today, we have officially been married for furr lung yerrs. I am happy and proud to announce that I chose you as my crush for today. After furr lung yerrs of marriage, I still think you are one smokin', hot dish.
Every time you walk into a room, I feel at ease and excited. I love being in your presence because you are the best person I have ever met. You are nice, honest, open, easy-going, funny, confident, loving, hard-working, committed, and fantastic. I could go on and on about all of the reasons that I am attracted to you. Combine all of your marvelous personality traits together and add to that that you are 6'2" and have beautiful blue eyes with long lashes, and I would venture to say that you are the perfect man for me.
As a matter of fact, if you were not my husband and if you had come to your senses and dumped me years ago I would probably be climbin' in yo windows, snatchin' you up. You are, truly, that hot. Luckily for you, you won't have to hide yo kids and yo wife from me, because they are our kids and I am your wife.
Have you ever wondered what goes through my head when I go about my day, Dave? Well, if you have, I will tell you. All day, every day as I am doing our homework and raising our children and keeping our house clean I am thinking of what I can do to impress you. It's really hard standing in awe of you all the time, and I want you to be in awe of me. I want you to come home and be like, "Daaaaaamn girl. You da bomb."
I really hope that one day I will feel certain that my crush is reciprocated. It's hard work trying to lure you in.
Your Adoring Fan,
Molly
Every time you walk into a room, I feel at ease and excited. I love being in your presence because you are the best person I have ever met. You are nice, honest, open, easy-going, funny, confident, loving, hard-working, committed, and fantastic. I could go on and on about all of the reasons that I am attracted to you. Combine all of your marvelous personality traits together and add to that that you are 6'2" and have beautiful blue eyes with long lashes, and I would venture to say that you are the perfect man for me.
As a matter of fact, if you were not my husband and if you had come to your senses and dumped me years ago I would probably be climbin' in yo windows, snatchin' you up. You are, truly, that hot. Luckily for you, you won't have to hide yo kids and yo wife from me, because they are our kids and I am your wife.
Have you ever wondered what goes through my head when I go about my day, Dave? Well, if you have, I will tell you. All day, every day as I am doing our homework and raising our children and keeping our house clean I am thinking of what I can do to impress you. It's really hard standing in awe of you all the time, and I want you to be in awe of me. I want you to come home and be like, "Daaaaaamn girl. You da bomb."
I really hope that one day I will feel certain that my crush is reciprocated. It's hard work trying to lure you in.
Your Adoring Fan,
Molly
Dear P!nk
I've had several deep and contemplative sessions in which I attempted to locate my one, true crush. Russell Brand? Bradley Cooper? Edward Norton? Christian Bale? Johnny Depp? In the end, it always came down to you. My girl crush.
You are exactly like me. I mean, you're exactly like the alter ego of me if I was really hot and exceedingly talented.
I fell in deep, unrequited love with you during my twenties. You say so many of the words I wish I could and you do it while flipping off the paparazzi.
You bravely make fun of the Paris Hilton's of the world, you write a biting letter to George Bush, you get run over by an 18 wheeler and you still get right back up. You simply could not BE any cooler. Plus, you have an exclamation point in your name. So awesome.
Keep on screaming because I'm still listening.
Love,
Rae
You are exactly like me. I mean, you're exactly like the alter ego of me if I was really hot and exceedingly talented.
I fell in deep, unrequited love with you during my twenties. You say so many of the words I wish I could and you do it while flipping off the paparazzi.
You bravely make fun of the Paris Hilton's of the world, you write a biting letter to George Bush, you get run over by an 18 wheeler and you still get right back up. You simply could not BE any cooler. Plus, you have an exclamation point in your name. So awesome.
Keep on screaming because I'm still listening.
Love,
Rae
Ahem.
Dear Elvis, Gerard Butler, Russell Brand, Shia Labeouf, Jake Gyllenhaal, Vince Vaughn, and Shemar Moore,
I am a happily married woman, which is really lucky for all of you. For you see, if I was not attached I am fairly sure you would all be compelled to leave the lives you have built for yourselves in order to be with me. I shudder at the thought of being such a home wrecker, but I cannot control the beauty and charisma I effortlessly radiate.
Elvis- you are deceased, but I have big plans for us when I make it to heaven. Gerard, you are something of piece of living art. Your body is chiseled and rugged like that of a sculptors dream. Russell, you are not much to look at without your mouth running, but when I dream of you, like the characters you are so gloriously type cast to play, your mouth is always running and it is making me laugh hysterically. Shia, I have loved you since it was illegal. I remember watching you on Even Stevens when you were but a boy and thinking to myself, "I have a crush on that little boy, that is disgusting." Jake, you are the boy next door. Unfortunately you were never next door to me- for in my adolescence I almost always made out with my cute neighbors. Vince, you are Vince effing Vaughn- I need not elaborate. And Shemar, my gloriously caramel skinned stud muffin- you belong on the cover of a romance novel- oiled and shining and wearing lederhosen.
You see, it is best we are not together. I am far to fond of all of you, and polygamy is illegal.
Yours Truly,
Brooks
I am a happily married woman, which is really lucky for all of you. For you see, if I was not attached I am fairly sure you would all be compelled to leave the lives you have built for yourselves in order to be with me. I shudder at the thought of being such a home wrecker, but I cannot control the beauty and charisma I effortlessly radiate.
Elvis- you are deceased, but I have big plans for us when I make it to heaven. Gerard, you are something of piece of living art. Your body is chiseled and rugged like that of a sculptors dream. Russell, you are not much to look at without your mouth running, but when I dream of you, like the characters you are so gloriously type cast to play, your mouth is always running and it is making me laugh hysterically. Shia, I have loved you since it was illegal. I remember watching you on Even Stevens when you were but a boy and thinking to myself, "I have a crush on that little boy, that is disgusting." Jake, you are the boy next door. Unfortunately you were never next door to me- for in my adolescence I almost always made out with my cute neighbors. Vince, you are Vince effing Vaughn- I need not elaborate. And Shemar, my gloriously caramel skinned stud muffin- you belong on the cover of a romance novel- oiled and shining and wearing lederhosen.
You see, it is best we are not together. I am far to fond of all of you, and polygamy is illegal.
Yours Truly,
Brooks
Friday, August 26, 2011
Molly.
Molly-
I remember the day that we became friends. We were at a basketball game, talking to a kid who barely spoke English. We became so close and we stayed that way through high school and after. You cut the cord that connected Archer to me after he was born. In the last three years, I have lived in a different state. I live in a different time zone and I have a very different life than you do. We don’t keep up the way that we should because we are both busy people, but I love you still.
Tomorrow, you are getting married. In addition to sharing a name and lots of memories, we will share an anniversary. I am not going to be there, although I had planned to be. I won’t see you walk down the aisle and I won’t hear your vows. I won’t watch your smile, as you become a wife. I am going to miss an important beginning for you, and you have always been there for mine.
I wish more than anything that I could be there. I would love nothing more than to see your glow. I remember the night that I introduced you to Nick. Who would have imagined that my drunken idiocy would have resulted in you finding the perfect person to spend your life with? I cannot find the words to tell you how excited I am for you.
You are a great friend. You are the best friend that I have ever had. I know that you are capable of and will achieve wonderful things. This is just one more thing for you to be amazing at. I hope that you and Nick will experience a life full of love, happiness, and very tall countertops and ceilings.
I love you now and always,
Molly
I remember the day that we became friends. We were at a basketball game, talking to a kid who barely spoke English. We became so close and we stayed that way through high school and after. You cut the cord that connected Archer to me after he was born. In the last three years, I have lived in a different state. I live in a different time zone and I have a very different life than you do. We don’t keep up the way that we should because we are both busy people, but I love you still.
Tomorrow, you are getting married. In addition to sharing a name and lots of memories, we will share an anniversary. I am not going to be there, although I had planned to be. I won’t see you walk down the aisle and I won’t hear your vows. I won’t watch your smile, as you become a wife. I am going to miss an important beginning for you, and you have always been there for mine.
I wish more than anything that I could be there. I would love nothing more than to see your glow. I remember the night that I introduced you to Nick. Who would have imagined that my drunken idiocy would have resulted in you finding the perfect person to spend your life with? I cannot find the words to tell you how excited I am for you.
You are a great friend. You are the best friend that I have ever had. I know that you are capable of and will achieve wonderful things. This is just one more thing for you to be amazing at. I hope that you and Nick will experience a life full of love, happiness, and very tall countertops and ceilings.
I love you now and always,
Molly
Pizee.
When I think of you, initially I think of lemon socks, NIN t-shirts and your never ending desire for a happy meal. I see us walking up the hill from Doug's high and feeling as if we were actually scaling Stone Mountain. I picture your bedroom covered in posters and drawings, every shelf lined with Coke cans and sour chocolate milk glasses. I see you with Jeff, young and in love.
When all the nostalgia passes, I don't even see the same person. I see not only an amazing mom and wife, but a beautiful, independent and confident woman. A woman who fights against the grain to make the best choices she can for her family be it education, health, finances or leisure. I see strength in certain areas where I lack greatly and I am envious, but it is a handsome shade of green.
I know that no matter how much time passes while life gets in the way of us having conversations, or how far I am away from you geographically, you will always be in my life. You will always respect my ideas and decisions, but you will also always respectfully state when you disagree and why. You will push me beyond myself and the box I have created, and you will always desire for me to do the same for you.
When I look at photos of us from a decade ago I see little girls searching for meaning and hope and love. When I look at us today I see women (both of whom slightly resemble their mothers), who have fulfilled those longings, and the some. I am so blessed to have you in my life Randi Tisdall, and I don't think it a coincidence that I call my little girl Pizee more often than not. I love you like whoa, spiked dog collars, processed chicken nuggets or cargo shorts and green smoothies- you are AWESOME.
Love, Brooks
Dear Jen
This is to the girl I met back in junior high. It's been eighteen years now. When I met that girl, she had two broken arms from rollerblading down the biggest hill in our neighborhood. She was tough, strong, brave and wild. I was in awe of her then and I am in awe of her now. If I would have heard of roller derby when I was fourteen, I would have labeled her The Quintessential Roller Girl.
To that girl, my forever best friend, this is what you are to me:
You are my adolescence. Marlboro Reds and ripped jeans and Seattle grunge and too much acid and The Hurricane Cafe at 3AM and psychedelic mushrooms and Lollapalooza and being barefoot and dirty and hysterical laughter and running with a crowd of boys and drawing and writing and music and rebellion and experimentation and so, so, so much fun.
You are my entire history. You hold the blueprint of every move I've made. It is recorded within you. It is encoded in your DNA now.
If someone asked me to describe you, I'd prattle off a long winded explanation that would sound something like this:
"An Amazonian warrior in a waitress uniform, torn fishnets, tattoos peeking out everywhere, a baby on each hip, a string of profanities in German, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief and a laughing mouth."
You are the girl that everyone loves. You are the mother I wish I could be.
When you moved to Florida, I was devastated. It was the Fourth of July. You told me that as your plane took off, you could see fireworks bursting in the night sky. It was the day of your own independence, your chance to fly away from Seattle and make something new. But for me, life seemed to stand still. I cried every single day for months after you left. I still cry when I think about it, and it's been a decade now.
Shortly after your move, I sent you a card. On the cover, it had a photograph of a little girl closing her eyes as she played the classic game of Hide and Seek. The text read "Eight...Nine...Ten." On the inside of the card it said, "Okay. You can come back now." The offer still stands, even a decade later. You can come home now. Please?
To that girl, my forever best friend, this is what you are to me:
You are my adolescence. Marlboro Reds and ripped jeans and Seattle grunge and too much acid and The Hurricane Cafe at 3AM and psychedelic mushrooms and Lollapalooza and being barefoot and dirty and hysterical laughter and running with a crowd of boys and drawing and writing and music and rebellion and experimentation and so, so, so much fun.
You are my entire history. You hold the blueprint of every move I've made. It is recorded within you. It is encoded in your DNA now.
If someone asked me to describe you, I'd prattle off a long winded explanation that would sound something like this:
"An Amazonian warrior in a waitress uniform, torn fishnets, tattoos peeking out everywhere, a baby on each hip, a string of profanities in German, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief and a laughing mouth."
You are the girl that everyone loves. You are the mother I wish I could be.
When you moved to Florida, I was devastated. It was the Fourth of July. You told me that as your plane took off, you could see fireworks bursting in the night sky. It was the day of your own independence, your chance to fly away from Seattle and make something new. But for me, life seemed to stand still. I cried every single day for months after you left. I still cry when I think about it, and it's been a decade now.
Shortly after your move, I sent you a card. On the cover, it had a photograph of a little girl closing her eyes as she played the classic game of Hide and Seek. The text read "Eight...Nine...Ten." On the inside of the card it said, "Okay. You can come back now." The offer still stands, even a decade later. You can come home now. Please?
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