I feel like I should be writing a letter to your brother, because I haven't yet, but I want to write to you. I carry a lot of guilt lately about how I feel (and don't feel). I don't know how to shake it yet, but I'm going to shake it, the guilt. It makes me angry, which is bad for everyone.
Tonight we were reading a book we've been enjoying, Holes, by Louis Sachar. I suddenly realized I should have read it first, because it is too old for you, by perhaps three years. There is a part about racism that knocked me flat on my ass, only since this is a letter to you I will replace that word with bottom. I cried when I read ahead a little (thank you, foreshadowing, my trusty ally) and cried when I closed the book. I want to shield you (and your brother) from the ugliness in the world.
I want to shield you and your brother from the ugliness in me. Which brings me to...
...this letter is partly for Han after all, because what I want to write is that I think I have a touch of Post Adoption Depression. Which is why I'm up at 1:30 in the morning when I need nine hours of sleep every single night. I spent the past four hours researching PAD (its snappy acronym). So, sorry I've been a bit of a nightmare lately.
Maybe this letter is for me.
I do want to say to you that I love you, and I expect to love your brother just as much as I love you, soonish. If I push you too hard to be something you're not, or good at everything because I know you can be, or old enough to read the books I want to read, I'm so sorry. I love you just the way you are, sweet and wise and innocent; seven years old.
Any minute now, I'm going to let go of guilt.
love,
Mommy
(If anybody feels like perspiring [cough], I'd advise you to go ahead,
because I'm sure going to. In fact I'm gonna [mumbles while pulling up
his gown and taking out a handkerchief from his pocket].) Greetings
["parents"?] and congratulations to Kenyon's graduating class of 2005.
There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet
an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says
"Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a
bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes
"What the hell is water?"
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