Love Letter To My Children

Anyone who knows me knows that the true loves of my life are my boys so this may come as no surprise that I’m once again writing about them. All this time I have loved them unconditionally. But I didn’t realize until just now that they have loved me the same way, without judgment, without conditions, boundless, complete acceptance.

Recently a close friend quoted from one of my favorite childhood books, The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams. “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse, “it’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long long time not just to play with but REALLY loves you, then you become REAL.” “Does it hurt,” asked the rabbit. “Sometimes. …[but] when you are real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once? Or bit by bit?” ‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

My children have helped me become real.

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