Every now and again one of my children will surprise me with an affectionate letter, like this one from my daughter when she was in high school. My sardonic side surmises this was an assignment for everyone in the class, but my warm fuzzy side indulges in thinking it's a lasting sentiment:
Dear Mom, I just finished reading The Color of Water in English. It is a black man's tribute to his mother. The book made me think about you many times. I want to tell you how much I love you. This book made me realize how lucky I am to have a wonderful mom. All of my friends have good relationships with their mothers, but none of theirs is as good as ours. I am so thankful that we are so close and can share all our lives with each other. You are an awesome mother; you always comfort me when I need it and I appreciate that a lot. Thanks for being one of the best moms in the world. Love, Rachel.
Today, Rachel sent me an email that revealed how much alike we are:
Dear Mom, John Lennon died 30 years ago today. I realized that it is very possible that i was conceived 30 years ago today too. How long does one's soul/spirit stay in the in-between state before being reincarnated? 'Cause if it's not very long, I'm probably John Lennon. Which explains why you love me so much and also explains why I'm the only person on the planet who thinks Yoko Ono is hot.
One day in 1989, my oldest son said, "I'm surprised you don't have the phone taped to your head, Dad." Yeah, he spent a LOT of time on the phone while at home. Quality time with the fam? Not so much. But I wrote that "hardly a day goes by that Lynn and I don't get a compliment on our children, individually and collectively."
Another 1989 journal entry: Tonight driving with just Rachel in the car, I asked her what she would do if I died. She answered, "I'd cry and cry." "Yes, but what would you do when you stopped crying?" She said, "I wouldn't stop crying." Then she asked me, "What would you do if I died?" After thinking about it for a moment, I told her how empty I would feel to have all my hopes and dreams for her unfulfilled, and that I would always look at her picture and wonder how beautiful she would have been if she had grown up. What a macabre conversation for a mother and 8 year old daughter to share.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?
that Rachel.
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