My Dearest Clara,
You’re now in fourth grade, a whirlwind of arms and legs, and your independence takes my breath away. It’s no surprise, really, considering who your parents are. Since you were six, you’ve walked to school on your own, and these days, you often take care of your little sister even more than I do.
I shouldn’t be astonished by the blessings that come with raising you, nor should I be overwhelmed by the challenges. Yet, here I am, grappling with both. I marvel at your brilliance and wrestle with the moments where I feel I haven’t contributed my best to your journey. I find myself reflecting on my own limitations and how they shape the way I parent you.
You taught me invaluable lessons during your early years: how to nurture, to love deeply, and to seek joy in the simple act of being connected with those around us. You showed me that love is what truly matters — you, your dad, and your little sister are my world.
I used to write to you often, capturing moments and thoughts about our lives. As you’ve grown and I’ve become busier, those words have faded into the background. We’ve been busy living life rather than documenting it, but I miss that connection. I feel most anchored to you when I make the effort to think about your joys, struggles, and everything in between.
Even though I respect your privacy more now, I sometimes lose touch with the essence of who you are. Writing these thoughts down helps me reconnect with the younger version of you, allowing me to relive those moments of joy and wonder. I left breadcrumbs for both of us so we can look back, but it’s been too long since I picked up the pen.
What I want to address is this natural distance forming between us. It’s daunting to witness your growth, and sometimes I unconsciously shield myself from the beauty of who you are becoming. I never intended it, but I see now that I’ve fallen into a pattern. No one is perfect in any relationship, including the bond between parent and child. We are all human, filled with our own imperfections and baggage.
From the very beginning, you were the first to teach me unconditional love. As you’ve matured, so have I, but it hasn’t always been easy. You’re on the brink of your tween years, full of excitement for the world, while I find myself weighed down with worries. You cartwheel through life, while I sometimes just stand and watch, amazed by the person you’re becoming.
I often step back and commit your essence to memory, reminding myself to stay open to you. However, there are days when I close myself off, burdened by life’s challenges. I feel the space between us growing, and while it serves a purpose, it also pains me. I strive to acknowledge this distance and find ways to bridge it by fostering connection and being present.
I want to be there for you, to be the mother you deserve — especially when you need me. Even though you’re doing well, my dear, it’s important for you to know that I will always be here, ready to support you. As you and your sister grow, I find more time for myself, making choices that sometimes lead to solitude.
This space we navigate is both a refuge and a heartache. I accept that this distance exists, but I aim to embrace every opportunity to reconnect. I want to share more moments with you, to be open and to let you know how much you mean to me. You’ve been a lifeline for me, Clara, and even when I pull away, your love remains a constant source of strength.
So here we are, navigating this journey together. Today is a small adventure, just the two of us going to the store. It’s a chance to savor a caramel steamer for you and an Americano for me, amidst the beauty and chaos of October. Today is about seizing opportunities, nurturing our bond, and being honest in our process.
And while we may drift at times, I’ll always be here, leaning in, even as you lean out. After all, this is our journey.