Dear Grace

I have written to Dylan countless times but this is my first love letter to you; it will certainly not be my last. While I may never share these actual words with you, I hope I find meaningful ways to express their intent throughout your life.

I was eight years old - just like you - when my dad married the woman who would be my step-mother. I loved her immediately in small, superficial ways (she was very pretty and she smelled nice). Initially, she was also very pleasant toward me and so I am sure my affection would have become genuine in a short amount of time - most children are blessed with an availability of love. Unfortunately, we did not have a close relationship as I grew up but a part of me loved her anyway for giving me my brother.

I remember meeting you for the first time and how willing you were to have me in your room and to share in the game you were playing. I remember the comfortable way you crawled onto my lap and the curious, playful manner in which you touched my hair. You were so receptive to my being there and I was grateful.

In the months that followed our introduction, you occasionally called me "mom". I knew this was less an exclusion of your true mother and more an inclusion of me but I corrected you each time...

Grace, my name is Jessica.

I know. I'm just going to call you mom.

But you have a mom.

You can be my second mom and "mom" can be your nickname.

I have a nickname - it's Jess. What if I wanted to call you Steve?

That's fine so long as I can call you mom.

I know...why don't we think of a nickname ONLY you can call me?

Trying to outfox me, you decided to go with my "Steve" tactic thinking I would never agree to a ridiculous nickname and would, therefore, have no choice but to finally accept "mom" - -

Medusa! You triumphantly presented - your recent study of Greek mythology clearly paying off.

Perfect! I accepted, smiling.

That was nearly two years ago but you still, on occasion, use this pet name - mostly upon a departure of some sort: "Goodbye/Goodnight Medusa!" and each time, I consider the context of my dubbing and feel warm inside.

When I think about your dad and how fortunate I feel to have found him, I think about how incredible it is that he not only wanted to spend the rest of his life with me but that he found me worthy of sharing in your life, too. I think about this a lot and I marvel at it every single time.

I love being a part of your humor, empathy, intellect, and affection. I love watching you learn and experience life. I love "giving you dreams" with your dad and sharing in our "kiss code" at bedtime.

I hope I am always among the faces you look for in the hallways of your life; I promise I will always be there.

I love you,

Medusa

Independence Day

Departing for the Army - July 4, 2011

Dylan

Curiosity is a natural inclination for children and you were no exception. You asked all the "whys" and "hows" of an actively interested boy - one line of questioning always leading to another. Your eclectic topics of choice ranged from animals and the galaxy to human behavior and religion.

Once, in an effort to comfort you while we huddled in a closet as an Arkansas storm lashed our house, I asked if you would like to pray. Your solemn, eight year old eyes peered up at me from under our clothes as you said, "I'd rather cast a big, white circle around us like the Pagans do."

Over the years, my maternal job description has shifted. The things you once needed me for are different and the ways in which you need me have changed. I find I am the one asking a lot of questions these days - - and you, perhaps a lot like I was as a teen mom, seem a bit short on patience.

Now a man of 20, I look back on my role as your mother and try to be gentle with myself as I spot my mistakes in hindsight. Intuitively, I know there are others - errors I have forgotten or perhaps decisions I still do not perceive as misguided but you (or others) might. In all respects, I hope you will forgive me. You are going about the important job of adulthood and sometimes that includes filling the gaps our foundation might have missed or, at the very least, sealing our own cracks.

I have sent you off once before as a college student but releasing you into the world as a Soldier feels different. Although equally proud of and excited for you, I also feel scared and vulnerably powerless. It is a larger, deeper fear than sitting in a closet on a stormy spring day but I find myself simultaneously praying as I project a huge, infinite round plane of hope and protection around you...covering more than one base, I suppose.

In a most patriotic turn of events, you report for duty on Monday, July 4, 2011. You have always had my love and support but even that now feels different. Words can be such a poor messenger for emotions that run both deep and elevated.

The noun "Soldier" is someone who serves in an army but, as an adverb, "soldiering on" is to persist in spite of difficulties. You are a fourth generation Soldier in our family and I know you will excel as the noun even as I struggle with the adverb.

I love you,

Mom

Mother's Day

I have written a lot about my mom on this blog with little positive on which to focus. Today, I'd like to change that - partly to acknowledge good where it exists but mostly in an effort to refocus my feelings, energy and attention.

Dear Mom,

Here are the wonderful things I remember about you:

The way you loved animals. It was more than just tender affection, you were knowledgeable and instinctive about our pets' health and behavior. You always seemed to intuitively know the right thing to do in every situation. In addition, because you loved animals, you were generous with our exposure to them and so we knew and loved cats, dogs, hamsters, guinea pigs, birds, turtles and fish. Many of these pets were brought into our family by you but there were also moments of acquiescing to our pleas (and sometimes tears) regarding a found stray that just had to be kept.

The way you loved music. I cannot recall a time in my childhood where the walls of our home didn't absorb the melodies and sounds of various genres - ranging from rhythm and blues to country and western to classic rock. I remember the 8 tracks and the album covers which, to your chagrin, were often used as scratching posts by the cats (see aforementioned love of animals). I think people underestimate the impact of music on a young soul but, of all the times I spent the night away from home, I cannot recall a friend's family that seemed to honor music as much as ours and I feel blessed by this.

The way you respected people. In our house, it would have been much easier to get away with dropping a foul four letter word than to utter "nigger" or "fag" both of which represented an "ignorance" for which you had zero tolerance. At a very early age, you taught me not to judge people by their ethnicity or orientation but, rather, by their actions and intentions. You seemed sensitive toward others and adept at looking into the heart of people; perhaps because you hoped others would do the same toward you. On related notes, we were not allowed to say "shut up" due to the sheer disrespect of it and playing with toy guns was out of the question because "guns were not toys" and it was ridiculous to you that they would be marketed as such.

The way you respected the earth. The only thing as egregious as prejudiced labeling and ignorant name calling was littering. This might seem trite or obvious to some - especially in what is now a very eco-sensitive world - but I will never forget the reaction I received the first time I casually tossed a candy wrapper from the car window. I am confident this served as my motivating factor for cleaning the woods behind our house, an effort in which I enlisted many neighborhood kids. Ironically, while I often wished our home were better kept (in comparison and contrast to that of my friends'), you drew serious lines and expectations when it came to respecting mother nature and, in doing so, made me acutely appreciative of that which is greater than myself.

The way you respected literature. Not only was English your favorite subject but I grew up watching you read and remember perusing the numerous books that were piled throughout our home. I would marvel at your ability to instantly pronounce and/or define a word with which I was struggling and always in such a way that made it easy for me to understand and remember. In particular, I loved how you would listen to the poems I wrote and presented, taking note that you seemed especially proud which made me feel proud because you were so smart and articulate.

You have directly shaped and influenced the way my life has been enriched by a love of animals, a value of diversity, a respect for our environment and a sincere appreciation for music and the written word. All of these things are deeply important to me and so today, a day we acknowledge our mothers, I honor your place among them.

Jess

Where I've Been

Not writing as much as I could - or should. I've been busy with my new job, wedding planning and having fun with my NEW HOBBY!