To My Mum

Happy Birthday, Mum.

Sometimes, as we grow up, we forget our parents are real people. When you get older, and hopefully wiser, you see them in a new light. They are human beings and they have thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams, ideas and expectations, disappointments and blessings, hurts and comforts. When you first realize this, you have to sit down, especially when you start recounting all the stupid things you did and said, how uncaring your teenage years were. How you never really stopped to think about what your parents may have wanted out of life and how you may have messed up that plan.

If you're lucky, your parents become your friends. Sure, they are still that authority figure you hated having as a kid and love having as a grown up. Someone to turn to and count on. A person who will, even though you hate it, tell you you're being dumb, even when you think you're being smart. As you get older, you turn towards your parents, like I have. I go to you when I am lost and confused, broken and beaten, but also when I have joyous things to report. You are my friend, mum. You are the one I want to talk to when I discover a new truth about life or when I have debunked an idea I thought to be true.

I am lucky to have you in my life. A person who cares unconditionally for me and wants me to be happy. That's truly a wonderful thing to me. To know, no matter where I go or what I do, that there is at least one person in my corner, rooting for me, on my team. It's nice to know I have backup, who will listen, and defend, fight if need be, and if not, then send Dad to do some dirty work.

Life is complicated and weird. Sometimes I don't know up from down, but through all the complicated weirdness, I know you are there. To offer what advice you can. And when you have no advice, to simply say, "I don't know what to tell you" and it's funny because even that feels good, because at least we have no idea together.

There is beauty here on this Earth, despite the complications and weirdness. While I certainly inherited your introverted quirks, your misanthropic tendencies, I also won your love of nature. Your ability to cherish creatures big and small. And I am cultivating your respect for Mother Nature and all she holds, teaching anyone who will listen how important it is to listen, watch, and feel the sun, moon and stars. I take notice of the dew glittering like diamonds as it clings to the blades of grass in the morning sun. This is your imprint on me.

When I am walking along and I am dumbstruck by the beauty of what surrounds me, I think of you. It happens daily. And we hold a connection that vibrates through this earth and will always exist, no matter what. This gives me comfort. It gives me peace.

There are many things I want to thank you for, but there are not enough words or time to do so. We'd be here for hours. Days. Months. This is a blanket thank you. A blanket I love you. And a blanket, I'm thinking of you.

Xox

I Love You

Just over two years ago, I realized I love you. Yes, you. You reading this. Maybe even you sneering at this.

For the longest time, I was a backyard person. Someone who tends to their backyard, never looking beyond their own fence, worrying about my family, my friends, what is going to happen to me and my own. A twist of fate drew me down a dark path, severed me from a few people I thought would always be there for me, and forced me into a solitary journey. This sounds hard and cold and scary, but it was actually a stroke of luck, even though it was in fact hard and cold and scary. It felt crushing and heartbreaking at the time, but the longer I walked, the farther I went, the more time that passed, the less daunting the darkness became.

The denseness of my emotions let up. Finally, I saw a sliver of light. This, of course, is a figurative sort of light. The lightness of my heart, if you will, even though it sounds corny and self-helpish. It's the truth, though. I felt lighter. Freer. And I dismantled the fences around my backyard. Now, they no longer exist. There are no fences here. The world is my backyard. You are my friend. You are my family. And we may not have met, not yet at least, but I do care what happens to you.

And I love you.

I love you in the way I love every single tree and animal. I can't love your personal quirks. I don't know the cute way you say words or the frustrating opinions you have on political matters. We may be miles or countries apart, but not worlds. We are both here. On Earth. Living. Trying to exist. Most of us aren't scheming. The majority aren't bad. A lot of us are struggling. And sometimes we feel alone. But we aren't. We have things in common, even when it seems as if we are so different. We breathe and laugh and cry. There is this thread connecting us. It makes us a part of each other and joins us, not only by our base human instincts and genetic makeup, but our souls. Our hopes, dreams, and wishes. We are chemical and organic and made of the stars.

I understand these thoughts might seem radical, or ridiculous. Ridiculously radical. Radically ridiculous. It is easier to be a backyard person. To love your own. Sometimes it seems a tedious task to love those who seem undeserving, but aren't those the ones who need it most? In the end, I care about you. I want you to be happy and for good things to come to you. Sometimes I think about you. Think about how hard your day might have been, how far you've come from the person you used to be, and where you want to get to. These thoughts give me comfort, especially in my lowest of moments. Because if I am thinking about you, then maybe someone is thinking of me, and that means I'm not really alone. And I never will be.

Grateful, Grateful, Blah, Blah, Blah

It might be the fact I can't eat a bloody thing, but I am grateful for orange juice. 

You never fail me orange juice. 

Thank the Gods for you.