Dear Reese,
Two things can be true.
You bring so much joy to my world. And the world is a scary place right now.
I am unsurprised and nearly paralyzed with terror every time I open the news. There were six mass shootings this weekend. Our president is deploying the military against its own people. I have a conversation with someone making plans to leave the country so their trans kids can be safe.
I think about you, and what I’d do to keep you safe.
Anything.
Tonight, I put your helmet on and run around the quiet parking lots while you giggle and glide on the balance bike. We listen to the Suffs musical together because I need to remember what people can do to make things better . . . and how hard they have to fight for it, and how long that fight takes . . .
I say, I wish the powerful people would be brave.
They say, those people have families to protect, too. It’s human nature to protect one's own.
I think, how can I be more powerful? How can I be braver?
There’s a line in Suffs, “I want my mother to know I was here. I want my sisters to know I was here. I want my great-granddaughter to know I was here.”
I am so proud of how my mama, your MorMor, has showed up in this moment. I want you to be proud of me, too.
Two things can be true. I want you to be proud of me. I want to keep you safe.
When I zoom out, I’m close to despair. When I zoom in, all I see is you, and I’m hopeful and in love.
I’m wrestling with the paradox. I’m wrestling with the despair and the love, and how I can do something meaningful with it all.
I make you chicken nuggets. I sign paperwork for our new house. I read an article about the missing people from a Florida detention center. I learn about another friend losing their job in a layoff. I plan a D&D session as an escape for my friends. I cough and cough all day long and hope it’ll be a little better tomorrow.
I watch an episode of Friends and then write you this letter. When I’m done, I’ll watch another and then go to sleep. If tomorrow follows a pattern you’ll wake up too early, and I’ll bring you into my bed. You’ll curl into me, hugging me in the dark, and I would burn the whole world down for you.
Love,
Mama