Thursday, March 13, 2014

A Love Letter for Us

It's been a tough week, hasn't it puddings? While slurping coffee and staring in to space (as is customary) I fought writing something syrupy. People want to know how to DO things and see pictures of frustrated cats.

But alas, I was compelled to write you a love letter.  I feel like we could use it.

Dearest Kitten,

I know you're tired. You show up to work on time, are considerate of other drivers, serve up your heart and remember to recycle. It's incredibly sexy.

It hurts to wake up and feel like you're moving backwards--as  if somehow while you slept the river pushed you back several miles and you're back at the campsite.

Feeling like you are giving more than you are receiving can be like living with a nasty cold you can't kick: your body hurts, stirring your tea is exhausting and all you really want to do is move into your bed and give up. 

Or write a strongly worded email. Or eat a box of donuts.

But I want to assure you that you are growing, muffin. Even if you can't see it right now. We pretend that growth is an expensive eye cream that works over night-- blissful and painless.

But stretching yourself is exhilarating and usually uncomfortable. Growth starts in the dark--

in the dirt.

Olympians know it. Flowers know it.

Those aches mean you are on the right track.

It's okay to want good things for yourself. It's okay to gently shut off the compulsion to please-- to not answer every message, to not appease every stranger, not to demolish the seemingly endless tire fire of imaginary tasks...

You know the difference between being busy and being productive, because you're sharp. It's one of the many reasons I adore you.

Your work does not go unnoticed.  Everything you do makes a difference. I learned that from The Butterfly Effect...

or  maybe It's a Wonderful Life.

Whatever. What I mean is that we're all in this together-- that you've done big things before and can do big things again...

You're doing great, the moment is now and your hair looks perfect,

you magical cloud of  hot moving molecules. 

 Let's meet at the bike rack and talk about the future.

Affectionately yours,

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