A Letter to My Son from June 2020

The world we currently live in is a heavy place. We are approaching the three month mark of a global pandemic, and recently, a country wide reckoning with systemic racism and police brutality. 

Our family of three has been “stuck” inside since March 14th due to a new coronavirus causing Covid-19. Thankfully, we have stayed healthy so far. Daddy works from home. Lily has only just recently come back to help us out in early May. Most of this time, it’s been just us, and we are closer as a family than ever. It’s not easy, but we’re in a much better place than a lot of the world. We have so much to be grateful for. 

Last week, a black man was killed at the hands of the police while being arrested on suspicion of nonviolent crime. George Floyd. This is after another black man was hunted down and shot by white civilians while on a jog. Ahmaud Arbery. After another black woman was killed during a police raid on the wrong home. Breonna Taylor. And this is just in the past few months. It has been happening for years, decades, centuries. The disregard for black lives is an ugly stain on the patchwork of our nation. Systemic racism is still alive and well in 2020 and nothing is really done about it. However, this time we hope, we pray, that things are different. Will this be a turning point in history? I hope so. Time will tell.

More people are speaking out about injustice and finally it seems more are willing to listen. Millions are on the streets protesting, demanding justice, calling out racism in their lives, educating themselves on white privilege, petitioning for police reform, becoming allies and taking action. Opportunists have taken this time of much needed peaceful protesting to loot and vandalize stores. Riots are starting. A citywide curfew is in effect. Everything feels so surreal, like a movie. 

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You – so sweet and innocent at 9 months old – have no idea what is going on. I’m convinced that throughout the pandemic you are missing your baby friends, gym classes and swinging in the park. I worry that the constant tears shed over the past week as we grieve black lives stolen too soon and relationships broken due to the necessary tough conversations, will somehow impart on you all of our sadness. But you are as joyful as ever! Laughing, playing, loving life. Your smile brings us light during these dark days. The beautiful energy you radiate fills our hearts with love and peace. 

Last night I rocked you to sleep for the first time in months. Fiercely independent (just like mommy!), you now generally like to fall asleep all on your own and do not settle in easy if we try to lull you to sleep in our arms. After your last bottle and bath, we put you down in your crib, smiling up at us with rosy cheeks and freshly brushed hair. I kissed you goodnight while daddy turned off the lights. I hadn’t been out of your room for more than a minute when I felt the urge to go to you. “His face seemed dry,” I told Daddy. So I scooped up some ointment and stealthy entered your nursery. Reaching down over your crib, I rubbed the healing balm on your dry patches of skin I’d felt earlier. You started to cry, which is unusual for you. I tried putting your favorite Wubbanub back in your mouth and you protested. Instinctively, I knew you wanted to be picked up. Maybe you knew I needed you to need me at that point. Because as soon as we made our way over to the big comfy glider, settling in the darkness with you in my arms, your eyes immediately closed and your body slowly melted into mine. It was almost as if we were one again. It was the best I’d felt in days. 

EJ – my love for you knows no bounds. Daddy and I give you our all –  our heart and soul – and you give us so much more in return. Joy, love, happiness, light. I hope when you read this, we are still giving our all to each other, and loving each other with our whole heart. And I hope the world is a better, more beautiful place for you, and for us all.