I was breed in chaos. But I will not let it take me.
I have a lot of anxiety about life. It’s not the anxiety surrounding money, jobs, career path, house, etc.
It’s small things. Like floor boards creaking at night. The sound of someone clearing their throat. Someone quietly eating dinner without looking up. The sound of yelling. The dark.
It’s a shock to my system. A shiver down my spine.
It’s the language of chaos. The language of the unheard.
Abused children speak a langauge you can never learn. It stays with them years after the trauma has been ripped away.
If you want to heal your children, don’t put them in chaos to begin with.
To the boy always pushing girls off the swings for me in head start,
“You know I’ll always be that person”
“I said I’ll always be that person to you. Even now, you know.”
Cody, you were an amazing present I never said thank you for.
I keep wanting to show pictures of my trips to you. I know we planned to go on many trips. We decided this summer we would go on surprise trips all the Fridays we could. We would go camping. I planned all the hikes, and all you were thinking about were the s’mores. Our priorities were never in order, but we still got there.
And now, sometimes, I don’t feel close to you when I’m just standing here. So I start writing, and suddenly you are here. So I’ve been writing more. And I’ve been thinking more.
I know you always believed in heaven. And I don’t think that concept sounds that bad. I mean everyone partying and seeing loved ones again. I’d like to think that’s where you are. And eventually I hope I get there to you. And I’ll show up begging to ride all the amusement park rides. And you’ll say, “That girl wasn’t on a swing, but I pushed her out of the way for you. Ride with me.”
And maybe that’s what heaven is like. Some alternate universe where you can have all the people you ever lost doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing to you.
Sometimes I just want you to know we all still love you. We all still will.