I’m writing love letters in October. Every Monday, I post one here…
Dear Impossibly Beautiful Golden Haired Girl in the Pink Leggings and Hello Kitty Top,
Your laughter, adorable and fierce, catches me off guard. I turn to find the source and there you are. Know this: there are few things more dazzling than your wild run across this park’s green expanse, hair catching sunlight, thin legs pumping, arms flung out as you dive onto the Nerf football everyone wants. I can’t help but laugh as your little body covers the ball and your inarticulate squeal declares you the winner, the ruler, the 4-year-old master of your daycare world.
I want to tell you to not to surrender your victory to that dark-haired boy, the one who couldn’t catch you in the race to the prize, but threw himself on you when he finally did arrive, wrestled the ball away, stood and waved it in the air as though being second and a bully were just as magnificent as being brave and wild and first.
I watch you get up, staring after him, wiping your palms on your pink leggings. He runs the ball over to the 20-something in charge, who accepts it, half paying attention as he talks to another 20-something in charge. The two of them, a boy and a girl, look like kids to me, but I know it’s all perspective. They’re a lot older than you. All the preschoolers gather into a loose huddle, waiting, watching as the 20-something tosses the ball up and down. They dance in nervous anticipation until finally he lobs the football high above their heads.
In unison, everyone turns, runs, shouts. I want to tell you don’t worry about it. It’s a stupid game. The dark-haired boy’s a stupid boy. You don’t have to prove yourself to him or anyone else. I want to tell you how perfect and amazing you are, tell you a hundred truths chosen specifically for you, to make you believe in yourself, to make you unafraid, unintimidated by the bullies of this world.
But when my eyes break away from the football hurling through the air, they find you, breaking away from the pack again, wild, joyous… absolutely certain. The ball lands, and you land on top of it, and in the instant before the crowd of kids descends upon you, I know you don’t need my speech at all.
It was I who needed you today.
I’m so honored to have been invited by Julia Fehrenbacher to write about fearless love on her blog, Painted Path. I hope you’ll go read me there and then check out all that Julia has to offer. Her blog is like a little sanctuary, beautifully written and disarmingly honest. I’ve never actually met Julia in person, but I suspect that description would apply to her too.