I write letters to my children. Not everyday. Not every month. But often enough.
I write about what we've done lately.
I write about what their latest obsessions are.
I write about how much I love them and how badly I want them to know how much I love them.
I write about the challenges of being a parent.
I write about my hopes and dreams for them and how I struggle to put my hopes and dreams aside for their own hopes and dreams.
I write.
I started writing when the eldest was an infant, so I've been writing for 13 years now. I still haven't found the words to explain the depth of my love for them. I don't know if there are words to describe the constant pressure in my heart.
These books are full of letters all signed Love, Mommy.
I write about what we've done lately.
I write about what their latest obsessions are.
I write about how much I love them and how badly I want them to know how much I love them.
I write about the challenges of being a parent.
I write about my hopes and dreams for them and how I struggle to put my hopes and dreams aside for their own hopes and dreams.
I write.
I started writing when the eldest was an infant, so I've been writing for 13 years now. I still haven't found the words to explain the depth of my love for them. I don't know if there are words to describe the constant pressure in my heart.
These books are full of letters all signed Love, Mommy.
I don't know when I will give these books to my precious children because I don't know if I am capable of finalizing the books. My journey as a mother is constantly moving onward and evolving. I do not foresee ever wanting to stop writing to them. Perhaps they will find the books years and years from now when I am gone. I hope that each of them reads the letters someday.
I hope they laugh at the funny bits.
I hope they feel the impressions from my penmanship with their fingers and know that I wrote with love.
I hope the letters bring back fond memories and soften the scars of the not-so-fond memories of their lives.
I hope.