My heart

My heart to my extended family today.

To the little girl I never had the pleasure to meet, your cousin and your aunt love you. Very much.

These things make no sense. I know. These things can never be reasoned with. I know.

My heart to you today. X

the post where she updates, properly…

Hello Audience of Twelve,

How are YOU doing? Apologies for being so relatively, unprolific. It’s been a busy time.

There’s some housekeeping I need to do so, here goes (and yes, its a little numerical list just for the super-awesome and newly-engaged Glugster )

1. Awards, Kudos and General Brilliance:

So it turns out, I got an award! twice! So, to my sweetheart friends in the computer and beyond, Angel and Acidicice , I say thank you for this:

And, as is tradition, I need to pass this on…

So…

Hey, ExMi, mother of my future son-in-law and you fullashit fantastic woman , this is for you (inclusive of a big, sloppy wet kiss with tongue heh):

2. I’ve Been Thinking:

I’ve been meaning to say this for a while. It’s been building up and swarming around my head. To the person who once told me “that’s what you get for living your life on the Internet” and who incidentally and weirdly, is/was/possibly/who gives a flying fuck now anyway, someone who works on/with the Internet itself…

I say, Yeah. Dude. This is what I get for living my life on the Internet as you so un-eloquently put it. For being brave, for being open, when I could. For being myself in the face of everything. Of mud slung and words bandied around. For the amount I’ve times I’ve been told to shut down, to shut up and to leave things alone. For the times where I’ve been told I’m doing my daughter a disservice by sharing our life together. For the times where I apparently made you uncomfortable, and for the times when you complained that you were not the spotlight. How sad it is that my old blog is no longer. How liberating it is, too. How I only really know why that is liberating. How I only really know how free I feel. How I only really know how “living my life on the Internet” has brought me more joy, companionship, no-bullshit-and-baggage friends. How I only really know, that if I were to list the number of times I have been stunned by the love I’ve found from people not afraid to reach beyond the monitor. This year, this year has been testament to it. This year has been testament to the fact that I’m not just “fucking around and talking to noone who doesn’t really know you anyway, not like I do”.

(on that note, dude, your grammar always sucked. heh)

To you, to you, I say…if I look at my life, in all it’s hard-won beauty – sometimes wobbly, sometimes curved, sometimes splendid, always looking forward…

I can thank this habit of mine you so loathed, for ninety percent of the good things in my life.  Loathed so much by you, you told me to stop and when I did not, you made it go away. And when you finally went away, it was here to hold my hand. I can share every part of myself. Even the parts that scared you. They don’t scare me at all.

To you, I say, fuck you. You who cannot look me in the face.

To you, I say, fuck you. As you read this. And, yes, I know you are.

So, when I look at my year thus far, I have done and had so much happen as a direct result of this. Directly because of the courage I have fought so hard to have. And the love I and Cameron have felt. My friends, you awe me. Just, thank you. The people I am so lucky to work with, play with, meet with, laugh with, talk with, I say, THANK YOU. The people who cross both those boundaries, I say thank you. I cannot wait to see all of you. You know who you are and you all know when. Heh.

It is this that has helped me to be the person I always wanted to be. Sure, it’s a growth process. Sure, it’s an eternal evolution but, for the first time , ever, I truly feel like I am on my way. Without abandon. Without boundary. Without a muzzle. Without someone or something holding me back. Without inhibition. Free.

3. Mama Love:

This morning, I awoke early after an early night of hitting the pillow – so rare it deserves it’s own status update ROTFL, and went to do my morning coffee, smoke, bath, hair, rummage for breakfast… And when I walked back into our rather-large-rather-love-it-bedroom…  There was my daughter, sitting on the end of her bed, watching the sunrise, fully dressed (by herself!), brushing her hair. And she called me and said…

“mama, look at the sunrise. it’s all pink. just for me, mama. the sun is pink for me today. and for you”.

Dear Cameron, the reason the sun rises every day in my life, is you. You are epitome of love. The ultimate snugglebunny, and every day, your uninhibited love for the world. Your boundless love for me. Little me. Me, who thought she was not worthy for s0 long. Me, who did not even know how to change a nappy when you were born (true story –  even practicing on dolls didn’t help). Me, who looks at you every day, over dinner whilst we clink our glasses of green juice and say “same same” as we touch forks before we eat (yeah, that’s how we roll in our house, hehe), and thinks “of all the things I have had happen in my life, you are  the best thing that ever, ever did”.

You, the unexpected. You, the every day surprise and divine love.

Dear Cameron, thank you. Mama loves you.

4. Cath, indeed:

And, Cath. Cath is busy. Cath is feeling vaguely frustrated with some things in her life but, they are not to keep me that way for long. Cath is keeping inspired by reading alot. And when something touches her, she bookmarks it and sometimes she shares it too. This one, I’m sharing. Mostly because it’s written by a person I respect a mucho, who can make me laugh on a bad day, and who happens to be related to a person of whom I am quite fond. Heh.

5. Lastly:

There are a few unexpected things in store. Watch out for them.

all is full of love

You know, I sometimes doubt myself in this parental prance.  I realise it takes a lot of courage to say that, but moreover, I realise it takes a lot of love from other people to feel safe enough to say it.

When I was pregnant, I remember thinking to myself that all I really want to do as a parent, was show my daughter love. To have her be unafraid to love. To have her feel love, every single moment of every single day.

Sometimes I wish I could do better, be more, have more time/money/resources to devote to taking Cam travelling/doing stuff/buying her everything her littlemassive heart desires.

But, I don’t. All I really have is me. And a legion of family of friends who guide me and support me and love us in a myriad of ways that never end.

So, after a divine day in the sun, with my family, and Cameron is tired and exhilarated by having had the day to hang out with her cousin and dance like crazy and try all my shoes on, and just be herself…

And she gets into bed and as she says her good night to me, she says

I love you. I love my family and my cousins and my friends and my teachers and the butterflies, and the bunnies . I love my daddy. I love my aunties and my uncles. I love my granny and my grandpa and my EveGranny. I love our house and our life. And mom, I love you for being my mommy. I love the whole world because I am in it.

My heart swells and I feel my eyes fill with happy tears as I turn the light off and tuck her in.

Of everything I have ever been and done in my life, being Cameron’s mommy is the best thing I ever did and do.

Family

I found this on Wenchy’s fb.. and it resonated…

The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another’s desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

And it made me think of you. I love you, you mad, fantastic lot. X

stuff i battle to say

i know, it must seem weird for someone so eagerly verbose to battle to stay stuff but, hey, it’s true…

bear in mind, please, that it’s 23:28, i’ve worked every night this week and i’m not only tired but think the fish have even fallen asleep from boredom, from watching me monitor tanning here. Anyway, here goes:

1. I battle to say no. especially when it means i can help, and even more so if i love you. if i love you, i think you know who you are.

2. That doesnt mean you should feel guilty for asking. i am capable of saying no, and i won’t ever say yes when it means sacrificing something of myself. i have done that for far too long in my life. and when you turn down my offer, i won’t be offended but, i will keep one in credit for you anyway. the offer stands.

3. so, yes, i’ll hang your washing, hold your hand and make you tea, but, no, i won’t do it when i’m in the middle of bathing my kid. i’ll let you know if it’s an issue.

4. on that note, i am learning to say no when i feel taken advantage of. and no, youre not one of those people.

5. when i look around me, im still awed. not even in my wildest imagination did i think i would end up with this much love, such brilliantly funny, understanding and superb people in my life. so, excuse me if i get starstruck on your asses. it’s the way i am.

6. yes, i get scared. out of my mind. i just battle to show it. fear is not something i do well.

7. i’m scared of more things than you know, but i’ll be arsed if i’ll show it to that of which i am fearful. call it stubbornness, or whatever.

8. i have a secret hanging for robbie williams. it has nothing on my secret hanging for mark owen though. wahhah. just thought i’d throw a funny one in for good measure.

9. the concept of you not existing in my life, is anathema to me. pure,  unadulterated, grimacing-against-my-own-body, anathema. don’t ever leave. heh. that sounds demanding.

10.  this afternoon, when you asked what was on my mind, the truth is…you.

11. there is nothing in the world i would not do for you. scrap that, the universe. and i would do it with joy.

12. i miss you on the strangest days. days when you really should be here, and random days where i look in the mirror at my frown lines (when the hell did those arrive!!??!!) and think “wish i could bitch to you about this”.

13. when you wake up, still rough-eyed and hopping around, you remind me of the greatest thing in life – possibility.

14. you’re cleverer than you know, or will admit to. there’s nothing wrong with modesty, especially when you level it under a veil of cockiness that belies great strength.

15. you’re not mad, you’re human. and truly human means being affected, and emotional. reactive, and easily hurt. Our skins are not born thick. stop apologising for your epidermis and be proud that you’re not afraid of showing it.

16. when i look across at you, and you’re telling me something, i hear my own childhood voice played back at me. it makes my mama love surge up and want to keep you from the world. it also makes me so proud to see you, so strong, and so brave. and so very loving every second of your precious life.

17. i may not have done everything right in my life, but holy hell, i know there are at least two things i have. both of them happened without my intentions at the beginning of the day being set. heaven knows how immensely grateful i am that a little destiny shone it’s glo-worm at me on those two days.

18. i’ve started spring cleaning my house. i knew this was coming. i’ve felt it for three weeks now. call it winter renewals, or hibernation habits, but the aptly named ‘junemo’ time of this year, holds more hard work, but also more hope, than i have ever imagined.

19. you say things i’m thinking at the exact time i’m thinking them, more often than you know. sometimes i worry i have elucidated my thoughts verbally and not heard myself.

20. when you said i didn’t know you anymore, the truth is…it scares you how much you don’t know me anymore. a doomat is something you wipe your feet on, and i shrugged off that liferug a while ago.

21. great things come from little conversations. keep inspiring me, universe.

22. wherever i am, i always want you with me. that sounds selfish and impossible and…i don’t care.

23. even though you’re now a million miles away and probably not thinking about it at all, i’m reminiscing about that day you dragged me out of bed and made me watch the sunrise with you. just because it was beautiful.

24. i know we don’t speak much, but my respect for you and all that you do, grows daily.

25. in twenty days, i will enter the last year of my twenties. considering i first started writing (or what i term anything near decent writing, although a lot of it was so trite and utter crap) at thirteen, i will have been pounding keyboards and chewing pencils trying to find the right words for sixteen years.

26. dudes, at sixteen i already knew this was what i wanted to do with my life. and yes, i mean all of it.

27. i should have answered that question today with the word: “tomorrow”.

28. when you reflect back to me what i have told you, like today when you said “yes mom, i know you miss him but, you’ll see him soon and even when someone is not with you, the love doesn’t change”, it reminds me of how much i love you, how precious you are, and how blessed i am that you chose me to raise you. when you do things like that, i finally feel like i may just be doing an okay job.

29. the day you said i would never finish anything, was the day i resolved to always do so. that included you. in fact, you were first. hah.

30. perhaps it’s less about being strong, and more about being brave enough to say you’re not.

(Glugster - you know why i'm grinning at you whilst i end this post)

stuffs

okay, so…there’s stuff going on. Unfortunately, folks, you won’t be reading about it here or anywhere else in fact. I have some decorum and necessity for that.

But, I just wanted to say… thank you. Thank you for your emails, calls, messages and sunday morning early risings.

It means a lot to me. more than you know. I know my army is strong, and proud. and willing. 

The fact is that i currently oscillate between being okay with it, to wanting to smack things, to wanting to just cry. 

But, I’m strong. I’m strong because i know that things will be okay. Not ideal, but okay. 

I know they will be okay because there is no better army in the world than mine, and i defy anyone to test that theory. 

It already appears someone is. Heh. No matter.

I know you’re there. And it’s what’s keeping me going. Keeping me smiling. Keeping me strong. Keeping me doing this. Keeping me writing this. 

Don’t worry. I ain’t stopping. Ever.

Familials

So, I just want to say this. and say this once. To do so, I must quote Ozzy:

I love you all but you’re all fucking mad.

random thoughts whilst my head is lost in formatting

1. I’m really happy for you, you know. even though you think it’s just crap backlash from me. It’s just joy for you. I’ve always believed in you longer and farther than you ever did. But then, you know this. And if you don’t by now, well, yeah, I guess we know how that turns out.

2. I am so utterly devastated for you. But, I believe in you. This shit will not get you down. Nor keep you down. You’re not alone.

3. I wish you would shut up and stop thinking that your existence in my sphere is a blessing I have yet to realise. Dude, trust me, I realised my blessings way before you gulped your way through the door. I don’t need the alleged blessing of you, thanks.

4. No, that’s not how I feel about life. I don’t really care how you feel about that, either.

5. I can’t wait to see your face.

6. Seriously. It’s been seven years, it seems and yet you can pick any fucking random day of any fucking year and you choose today to swan right onto my phone line and say “oh hi, how you doing?” Fuck you in your eye for that, yo.

7. Couches. Plumbers. The longer relation word. His pants fit yours. Well roundedness like flour settling. Let’s just go do the big block and dye our hair blue.

8. I don’t even know how to tell you that what you’ve asked for is impossible. Sure, everything’s possible but, it’s just not possible with what I have to work with. Deal with this, soon.

9. When I tell you about that and you cry because you feel like you didn’t do something, you did. Your existence was enough. I’ll never forget that.

10. Sometime very soon, I will forgive myself for feeling responsible for your actions. Fuck knows what’ll help you then.

11. Sleep deprivation makes you doubt everything. Yourself included. Please excuse me.

12. I can never thank you enough for being with me.

i’ve not noticed this properly

i’ve not noticed this photo properly until tonight.

I know who took it, and they have known me since i was a foetus. they have parented me, loved me as one of their own and are one of the kindest souls i am blessed to know.

i’ve often found that it is an unexpected source that will show you something you needed to learn. that a single shot can bring a level of acceptance and a little smile in your heart.

this photo sums me up more than i expected. i think it’s strange i only really noticed it this evening. it was taken at cameron’s birthday party.

i’ve been to a million birthday parties in that yard, and growing up, i never thought i would be at my own daughter’s.

i’ve run this yard and slept in it numerous times. i’ve danced and read and lived, had bonfires, laughed, cried, had a brick dropped on my head *yeah i know, explains alot hey* and in this yard i also stubbed my toe so badly that my toenail has never been the same. i have loved and hated here. i have lived and i have died. i have planned and thought and written and read.

that yard is next door to my old house.

sometimes, i miss the old house. the familiarity of it. the smells and the noise and the carpet underfoot that for years made me think of animal fur (i don’t know why, i’ve thought that most of my life). the funny linen cupboard, the sunshine in my window, the soggy grass, always soggy, in the backyard. the graffiti-ed cupboards, the promise of where my folks would hide the christmas presents up high. the idea that every day promised something, either good or bad.

the day my father died, my very-close-to-my-heart sister in law picked me up and took me to the house. i walked in with cameron in my arms as a three-week-old infant, hugged my mother and she went to make funeral arrangements.

and left me alone in the house i grew up in with my infant daughter.

i was okay with being left alone with her. i grabbed that opportunity. i swaddled her up, i walked her up and down it. i showed her every photo and funny idiosyncracy the house held. i told her about why there was a butter mark on the pelmet in the kitchen, i explained why i laughed in the kitchen and remembered about the fridge whose door used to fall off at inopportune moments circa 2am. i smiled in the diningroom and showed her where we used to have all the photos and where for my 21st, my words were plastered all over it. i showed her the bathroom where i peed on a stick and we found out she was going to make her appearance in our lives. i gave her a grand tour of my room and told her of the funny room parties me and my friends would throw (how funny, I saw you today Sarah and we are all mothers now. and i said to you today that i wish for Cameron what I have – long-standing friends who offer unbounded acceptance, love and shared memories), my brother’s room now become daddy’s office, my sister’s room now become the sun room of chaos. i showed her downstairs and how when we were little we three siblings each had our own set of cupboards and that, if we opened this one, there was a sticker from a restaurant my sister once worked at. i told her that on the day will returned from Ireland, i was sat down there with green candles and a drink at the ready. i showed her the front door where a million friends had shown their faces in. i showed her the patio where mom would sit. and the stairs where she would muse.

i took her into the garden and i danced on the lawn, one more time. i showed the cabana and pointed out that when i was three, my dad would sit with me on his lap and talk to me. there’s a photo of that. my proud face and his arms holding me. i told cameron i hoped that i would be able to love her like that. and that im sure her daddy did.

i walked into the backyard and laughed at my blue paint on the windowsill. how it said something so far removed from my life now and yet, was such a developmental thing for me to do. i wished for her great love.

i showed her my window where i would sit and write and think and smoke and wave.

and then. then i went inside, picked up her bag and went next door.

i went next door and let her granny take care of her for a while whilst i cried. her granny knew i would wait until i was ready to cry. i gave cameron to her and i walked back to the house i grew up in and i cried.

i sat at the diningroom table and knew i would never sit there again and muse over tea like i had.

in that short cry, i knew i had to grow up. i knew that the time for me to unbecome a child and become a mom was upon me. and the thing that made me brave enough to be able to cope with losing my father was the fact that i was becoming a mother.

and the phone rang, friends phoned, people cried. i remember one person phoned to order one of my dad’s publications and i took the order, his details and sat down to write my dad a note to tell him to call this man.

and then i realised.

i realised i’d have to call this man back and tell him that i had no idea how to do it because my father had just that morning passed away but that once the chaos had passed i promised i would get whatever he needed to him.

i’ll never forget that man. he cried when i told him and was so apologetic whilst i was apologising for being so confused that i didn’t even think to tell him that my father was gone to heaven.

the ladies from the chemist called and sent over a package of the stuff i needed to help me be a mom. they were wonderful to me.

then i stopped again. and went to get my daughter. she was asleep on her granny’s chest. so small and so safe.

and i remembered why, so much, i always knew that i was lucky. i was lucky,  i am lucky. i’ve always had a much bigger family than the one i lived with. i’m not here to discount my biological, not for half a penny. but i am here to tell you that the people who have known me since i was a foetus are family to me too. and that they know so well that cath can’t speak when she is in pain. and that to distract me from it, they can make tea and talk of anything but the gaping holes they see in my eyes.

when cameron’s granny’s father died, on a day after christmas, i remember when she told us. we were watching ice age. it was boxing day. all sat on the couch and the phone rang. i’ll never forget her face and how for the first time, her embrace was limp.

that day, that day my father died, my embrace of her as she held my tiny daughter, was limp. for the first time in my life, i could not hug with the life that i knew lived within me. and for the first time, i understood why she told us on her father’s death day, to carry on with the movie.

i carried on with the movie. i was stilted and jilted and that evening, came home to the place where i would begin to raise my child, and where i had started to become a vaguely independent person. i sat on the balcony and stared at the stars. and i knew i had to carry on. even though i did not want to.

the thing about this story, is not that my father died. we all know our parents die, eventually. we never learn about it until they do. the point of this epistle is not about a house i grew up in or a wall i would climb over to see another part of my family. the point of this piece is that i do have a family, far larger than those who bare the same name as me. and that these people also know me so well, that they know exactly who i am and love me just as i am.

and who am i? just as i am?

i’m the girl sat on the grass blowing bubbles and not caring about a thing in the world except the bubbles.

because the bubbles are today.

and whether the bubbles are huge and float high and far, or small and pop on my nose, i am going to keep blowing them.

because, goddammit, the bubbles are always worth it.

12 July 2008

Dear Dadadad

It’s been three years, since them angels came and took you away to play chess with Ivor and ask all the angel waitresses – “is the kettle broken, duckie?”

I see Tabitha now sat beside you, on the arm of your chair, as it always was, and always should be. My two familiars together and watching over us.

What’s happened, Dadadadad? Where did life begin to speed up so fast? Was there a corner turned or intersection crossed that I don’t remember flying by? I know I’ve started to grow up, not just in this skin, but in this head too. Finally, I hear you sigh. Hehe.

Every day I look at the people around me and see how blessed I am. And how hard I have worked to be here. And how it just makes me want to work harder.

To work harder at work, work harder at life, work harder at being a mommy, and most of all, work harder at being just me. You always said that was enough. Enough for me, enough for you, enough for them, and that if it was not enough for the world, I should just ignore the world and carry on.

I’m carrying on, Dadadadad. I have felt defeated and broken and shitty, to be frank. There have been many days when I have wanted to sit across from you at the diningroom table, sunlight streaming in through the windows behind you (you do realise, we never, ever got around to putting the curtains back up after we came back from George hey? haha) and talk about everything and nothing. To drink tea, play cards, smoke and pontificate, interrupted only by cats and food and peebreaks. Peebreaks. You taught me that word.

The house, Dadadad, it’s gone and different now. I know you are not within there. I have felt you beyond it since you left us. I know you watch over it, and are happy that the UM set herself free from it. New beginnings. I worry you think we’d forget you, you and your “i am just a mushroom in the dark” mentality. We have not. In everything we do, every day, we remember you.

When I sit here, in this yellow-walled office, behind my laptop and type, smacking the keyboard, I think of you. Think of you, and waking up at 2am to hear you smacking that keyboard. Working towards doing something good in the world, helping someone. Hoping that you’re helping someone, somewhere. I have that same drive. Every time I turn this monster on, I think two things “oh crikey, more email” and “I want to do one good thing for someone today. if i can just do that, i know i’m okay”.

I’ll never be able to thank you and hate you enough for that drive – the drive that you and Mum imbued in each of us. The drive to help, to assist, to aid, to, as it’s called “hold hands”. And in all the noise and chaos and craziness, I know we are all holding hands, somehow, even when we’re shouting at each other.

I’d like to tell you about your grandchildren. I am sure you look at those three girls, and think “oh boy, in eighteen years’ time, i wish you lot luck”. You’d be right.

Cameron is phenomenal. She talks and talks and talks (no idea where she gets that from) and is so honest in her feelings, and expressing them. There was a moment this morning, we were having our morning cuddle, and I thought of you. You’d love morning cuddle. Sometimes I think you are watching us and cuddling too. If there is one thing Cameron has inherited directly from you, it’s her ability to hug and love without inhibition. You always gave the best hugs, and now I get them from Cameron. Thank you.

N-B is growing so quickly, and is the proudest big sister of all time. She’s responsible and caring, and above all things, is passionate. She dives into everything and is not afraid to try anything once, twice and three times if it makes her smile. She is always smiling and is so, so funny. I like to think, she gets her ability to smile all the time from you. No matter what, you always had a smile for us. Thank you.

K-J is just beginning to grow, and I hear very well indeed. When I held her, I felt that extreme peace you always spoke of, when you hold someone that is related to you. That is your family. Her little fingers reminded me of the fragility of life, and the wonder of the world through a newborn’s eyes. My brother, your son, is the proudest and most wonderful father. When I see him, he reminds me more and more of you. Strong and clear and profoundly in the moment. You were so, so right when you said that R and A had the strongest marriage, through thick and thin and inbetween. You were right, I can only think that they learnt from the best.

Sam was just here recently. One thing I can definitely say, is that she got the snore from you No, really, my sister is just like me it scares me. Just more bravely so. Unforgivingly so. And yet, so much of a soft heart. But, bloody hell, I would not want to meet her in the wrong end of a dark alleyway, if you know what I mean.

The UM. The UM is so graceful. She always has been, in a particular way, hey? Sure, we all know about the ability to throw stuff in the faces of pigs (we all have that ability!) but, with such grace. As I grow up, and keep moving, I see mom’s grace and am inspired. She is happy in her new abode, and I think she loves the way the sun moves its way across the rooms. She always was a sucker for sunlight. I get that from her, I know.

Dadadad, I miss you. I miss sitting on the lawn and talking. In our house, we were always talking, even when we didn’t want to talk to each other. Teehee Teehee. I wonder what you’d think about so much, but I feel your gentle guidance always. You are in everything I do, see. When I work, I know my drive to work is genetic. When I love, i know my unashamed love is purely part of me. When I live, in every second, I know I alive because of the life you gave me. Even when I am sad, I know I am not alone.

You taught me how important people are, and to always remember to honour them, and I try my best to. I look around me at the people I am surrounded by, and I know they are good, and strong, and there. Every day, I hope I do enough back. I know your opinion on this already though, and theirs too. I am very, very blessed indeed, and yes, I “have good friends”.

Dadadadad, I hope you are good. All-round good, and that the chelsea buns are fresh and that you have no need or desire to watch the laundry spin round the washing machine. Only you would understand that reference.

Dadadad, I must end off now. You are in my heart, my hands and my home. Always.

For you today…

My Inheritance – CSMJ

Someone once asked me, what will your parents leave you when they have gone away to heaven?

I had no answer.

The truth is:

nothing.

They’ve given it to me already.

You gave me life. Was that not enough?

Apparently not.

You have in my life
(as little and as short as it has been thus far…)
taught me so much.

The way I detail things intimately and fully.
The way I exclaim with joy or scream with anger.
The way I can swing from happy to sorrowful in a moment.
The way I love and hate in complete ways.
The way I love the little things.
The way my happiness abounds when I am joyful.
The way my sorrow is overwhelming when I am sad.
The way my hair grows, my funny toes.
The way I talk with my hands.
The way I stare off into space when I think.
The way I laugh wholeheartedly.
The way I like to do things properly or not at all.
The way I like everyone to listen to me when I speak.
The way I grin when I’ve succeeded.
The way I moan when I have made a mistake.

The way I write things.