Getting Bigger and Older

Hi Monkey Butt,

You’re thirteen.

You’re also 5’5 1/2″. Which means you’re almost taller than I am.

I marvel at how you have grown. Your wide shoulders are strong with purpose, your back is straight. You’re so strong, right now, from doing gymnastics 3x a week.

You keep cracking your knuckles. I keep telling you to stop. I keep envisioning these gnarled, arthritic fingers.

You’re in three different orchestras right now. You’re in OJ again, because they decided that while you are good enough to be in OY, they want a leader for percussion. Which is good, and bad. Good because you’re getting some amazing parts. Bad because the other students aren’t as keen as you are.

In OY, you don’t get to play much. But you’re so encouraged and excited to play with them. To be older kids that want to be there, as you do.  Your first concert at the NAC is coming up and I’m so excited for you.

You’re playing at Parkdale again, with Angus. This is your second year and you still love it.

And this means so much driving.  95% of the time, I don’t mind driving in. And it’s not because I get to go to the gym, although I do love working out. It’s because I get to be with you.

Sometimes we talk about Pinky and how silly and fat she is. Sometimes we talk about Lego and all of your creations. Sometimes we talk about music, and I always forget which parts in which song you are playing.

Do you know how hard it is to be a parent?

I’m not talking about bad behaviour, although lately you’ve been a little…arguementative and giving me tone, but it’s fine.

I’m talking about the awfulness out there.

We’ve had to talk to your gymnastics’ coaches about the other boys talking about innappropriate things. Do you remember? 12 year old boys asking if you please yourself.  Asking if you get excited when you see girls.

My heart hurts because I just want to protect you from all of the garbage, of all the pain.

I’m trying to keep you as innocent as possible for as long as I can. Because once you know the true evil in this world, your heart will change.

And I don’t want your heart to change.

Your heart is kind, compassionate, funny, loyal… you have so much character in you. And your heart is so big.

I don’t want to tell you about rapes in highly prestigious colleges; rapes inside families; rapes everywhere in the world from third world countries/slaves/prostitution/dating.

I don’t want to tell you that people kill for fun. That there are sick people out there who get a kick out of hurting someone else. Out of hurting animals. Out of hurting seniors, the disabled, the mentally-challenged, the hurting.

I trust you.

I trust GOD.

I trust that you will always choose the right path. The better one.

Don’t sell out to fit in.

You are so much better than that.

 

I believe in you, Jack.

love,

Mom.

 

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: