“Sometimes, I say the F word in my lev… when I’m thinking about Hamas.”
We don’t even know the half of it, I’m sure. The half of what is in your heart, the other half of what is in your heart, your daydreams, your nightmares.
But what I do know, what I can see, is that you continue to play, continue to conjure a world that you make lovely, even when you’re playing out the ugly, too.
If I had to guess what you might articulate if you were inclined to… I’d say things in this world are scary, are anxiety-inducing, but there is also so much wonder.
We put down our beloved dog the day before your birthday; I was an absolute horror show. You wanted to come; you were… curious. How it would go. What they do. How it works. What she might look like. I told you I’d be going alone. You asked me to take pictures.
If I had to lock it down words, I’d say – you are experiencing life, to the fullest – a full life contains it all – global and local horrors, global and local joy. You’re absorbing it, sometimes without choice, and sometimes because your natural curiosity for how things work overwhelms any sense of fear or discomfort.
I did take pictures, between tears and snot running down my face. The thought of you thinking about how it works, what she would look like, what she was experiencing – it was hard but it is you, Beanie.
So while we still do work to shield you – there are pictures I wouldn’t dare show you in a million 9-year-old lifetimes – you are, somehow, in all your softness and sweetness and delicateness – you are toughening up to the world, the world you’re motivated to know well, how it works, how this goes.
Once, there was a siren at school. You did as instructed, went where you were meant to go. But there was another girl – a grade younger maybe – who was very scared. You took her hand and helped her to shelter. You stayed with her, put your arm around her.
You came home later, told me matter-of-factly.
And a bit later, you fell apart.
You’re so big, Beanie.
You’re bigger than the fears and the anger.
You’re bigger than me.
You’re as big as your questions, your curiosity.
You’re getting bigger still.
Whadya got: