to the girl who never lets fear get in her way.
to the girl who bows down to nothing, never folding on her integrity or confidence- this letter is to you. To the callused finger tips, so fluent in cello that sometimes words feel like a foreign language on your tongue. To the book deal where money truly is irrelevant because this dream was never about the dollar sign as much as it was about the love and the passion, the drive to write words that could touch people.
to the words written that will touch people…
to the never burning dinner, patient and loving wife who incidentally also ribbons in as mom-of-the-year- this letter is yours.
You knit your own glorious caps and sweaters, you roam about town in designer boots and jeans. Your handbags scream stylish bits about your personality. Every friend you know is a tried and true one.
You never argue with your husband.
You never yell at your kids.
You pay your bills on time.
You have a house keeper.
You love people, every day. Your love, of people and for God, seeps from every project you take on.
You live wrinkle and grey hair free, in my dreams.
You are a much smaller, happier size with perkier places with an even tempered peace and reassurance about you.
When you smile, there is no nagging “but…” behind those eyes. Authentic, genuine happiness is your way.
You are the standard I wake up to, every morning… the screamer of the short comings I add up to, ever night.
You aren’t real, which makes the daily quest an impossibility…
But oh, I wish I were you…