December to December
December 1, 2025 — 8:01pm
Dear Reese,
A year ago, I wrote you the letter below in a Google document. I don’t remember that evening. I’m so glad I thought to write it down. I probably won’t remember this evening either someday — how the Sound of Music soundtrack played while MorMor organized your clothes and you kept closing doors. Now, when you chase Merlin, you catch him. (Though, to be fair, he lets you — he’s a good cat).
December 1, 2024 — 7:06 pm
Someday I won’t remember this. A day, an evening of fussiness. But you smile at me through most of your bath and teethe on the rainbow on your activity center and start to grab at Merlin’s tail as he continues to invade your playmat. You’re teething still I believe, and probably uncomfortable, I’m expecting those upper front teeth so soon.
But this is just another evening I fear I’ll someday forget. You in your pjs with the polka dots and the heart. The warm ones as the days suddenly got cold. I sit beside you making up songs. We listened to the Wicked soundtrack again tonight. You’ve learned to screech and use your voice. It doesn’t help with my headache, but I hope you always use your voice.
You do this thing where you burrow into me when I’m carrying you. Your face in my neck, your arms clinging on. And it’s that moment most, I truly feel like your mom. Thank you for that, little girl. I tell you every day — but you are my whole world. I love you. I love you. I love you.
December to December, some things will never change. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Love,
Mama