she’d say nothing’s impossible, child
The in-between spaces are usually when we talk the most. Between work and rehearsal, between work and other work, between home and anywhere. You know the sound of the wind in my microphone like you know the sound of my voice. But the in-betweens are more often than not more ephemeral- in between the good and the bad days, the homesick and the independent, the sticky and the smooth sailing. You are the queen of building bridges when I seem to have lost my whole toolkit.
You have taught me most of the things I know in this world, but most importantly how to find out the answers to the questions you couldn’t answer for me. More often then not we both got something out of the bargain.
You are my idol, my inspiration, my role model, all the other cliches that feel too small to hold what I mean. You made me, and you keep making me, teaching me always how to be better at making myself.
This morning Emma, one of the kids I babysit, gave her mom a card that read, “For all the times I didn’t say it” and on the inside was plastered the phrase “I love you” over and over again. I told her that if I gave one to you, it would say “you’re right.”
You told me this morning, as I was walking from the train to Emma’s house, about to take all three kids out of the house at the same time, to take a good hard look at what life is like as a mother and then to stay far away from it for a while. We laughed, the way you laugh when you mean something but know eventually it will not be true anymore. Because the truth is, I can’t wait until I can love a whole person with the fierceness and abandon with which you have loved me.
You are, to me, the paragon of what it is to grow. I have seen you look fear right in the face, give it a kiss on the cheek, and invite it in for dinner.
I love you with my whole heart, the heart you gave me. Happy Mother’s Day.
And yes, I wrote this on the T.