In 2017, I started writing notes to my three daughters.
Lately, I have felt that I should be brave and share some of them in this space.
So, here we go. I will begin with the intro to the first note I ever wrote them. I was in Bali for my sister-in-law's wedding. My three daughters, Savannah, Alexis and Lucia, were aged 10, 7 and 4 at the time. It was the middle of the night, my body was restless and my mind was whirling. So, I tiptoed out of the room we were all sharing, sat outside and let what was in my mind pour out onto the page.
I penned these notes semi-regularly for a while and then they fell to the wayside. In fact, I forgot about them all together until I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the beginning of 2019. It was a reminder that life is unpredictable and I started writing these notes to them again.
Maybe I will change my mind and take them down, maybe I will leave them here.. we’ll see! But for now, here’s to being brave...
To my daughters
Ideally, you will know me until I have seen decade come and decade go. Until the accumulation of all my smiles and frowns are deeply etched upon the weathered canvas of my face. Until your babes know well the embrace of my arms and their chubby faces have endured my prolific kisses. Ideally, these notes will not be read by you. They will be heard, discussed, fleshed out and even disagreed with, in real-life conversations. Perhaps with a glass of wine into the wee hours, under a balmy night sky or in front of a warm hearth.
The consideration of any other option pains me to the depths of my Mama heart.
And yet, I have witnessed the heartbreak of what it looks like when 'ideally..' is cut tragically short and I cherish each and every sunrise and sunset too much to think that a long life is a bonafide guarantee. And so, the seed of such a dark and late-night thought is what births these notes.
From me to you.
Because I am wise? No. But, because I'm your mother. And there are things I want you to know.
The truth is that the vast majority of these 'notes' are things that you will know, perhaps quite well. And yet I want you to know them from me. Perhaps this will be rambling and messy. Perhaps I will find a way to form it into something coherent and sequential. Either way, it will be shared and you will know.