A Letter to Dylan

This time last year, I had an amazing dream.

Driving around in the old Buick, it was a hot summer afternoon so John and I had the windows rolled down. We were driving aimlessly, listening to our music and trying to find a way to pass the time.
We passed a baseball diamond where a little league team was playing their championship game. We smiled at each other and thought, what better way to spend an afternoon than watching adorable kids play ball in a park.
We quickly were drawn to one team-- and one little boy in particular. We cheered for him, not knowing his name or even the name of his team. We just wanted him to win. We went crazy when he scored a homerun, and he glanced over at his unexpected fans from time to time with a big grin that said "Didja see that!?"
When the game ended the little boy ran up to us. Even though it was a dream I had a year ago, I remember his little face vividly. If there ever was a child that was a perfect combination of both myself as kid and John, it was this little boy. John scooped him up under his arms. "How did you get so talented, Dylan?" he asked dotingly.
This beautiful child, with John's radiant eyes and my toothy smile beamed back at his father and said "I did two whole home runs, didja see?" He geared those eyes back at me and I realized that this was my child. Someday, at some point in my life, this little eager baby will be mine. It may sound crazy to you. For me, it's a blessing.
I have since had dreams of Dylan, although every time Dylan has appeared as a girl. I have a strong feeling that I have a daughter out there, already named and special and perfect for me. Tonight I have been feeling down and lonely. My only outlet is to write, and for that I am grateful because it led me to come up with this letter, written for my future child, whether it be a boy or girl, but definitely my Dylan.





My dearest Dylan
As your mother I can imagine lying to you will be impossible. I hope you forgive me for my imperfections. Remember that I am human and I am eternally sorry that the consequences of my potential mistakes can and probably will effect you. But knowing that you are out there, with a future, a life, a family, career, and friends, I feel I owe you the truth.
The truth is that not every story has a happy ending. Please don't think I mean to say that love stories and fairy tales are lies. They are not. But heartache, like the inevitable evil stepmother or terrifying dragon, is real to your story. If there was one thing I could protect you against and nothing else, it would be this.
Where I am in my life is single and lonely and most especially heartbroken. But it hasn't always been this way so I can imagine that it probably won't always be. You will hate hearing it, as I have too, but what they say really is true; "This too shall pass."
My heart would never have felt or appreciated grief if it had never felt love. I realize that is a hard concept to grasp: appreciating grief. I do not fully understand it, and it has taken all 19 years of my life to come to terms with it. But I never could have learned my faults and how to change them if I hadn't made mistakes. All good things must come to an end. Don't you ever misunderstand this statement either. This does not imply that happiness ends, or the hope of finding it. It is one of the only things another person can never take away from you.
Sometimes good things must give way for great.
I am young. I am too young to be your mother, and I am too young to be a teacher. But I hope you will experience life for yourself with these words as your guidelines. Make mistakes. Do. I cannot imagine where I would be without mine. But be selfless. Be patient. Think on pain you've felt the next time there is the urge to judge another. Has he felt that same pain?

Lay on the pavement when it rains. It will teach you humility. Kiss on the mouth with your eyes open. It will teach you balance. Seek to understand others, it will teach you marvelous things about yourself.
Never hesitate to weep when you feel inclined. Every human being is allowed to feel and express their sorrow. Teach everyone you know the importance of a real hug.
I can promise you that you will never need drugs to poison your veins if you can learn to appreciate music and people and let them fill you.
I can promise you that other's stories will help teach you far more than you could ever hope to learn in school.
Take nothing for granted. Take millions of pictures. Tell someone you love them when you feel it (I love you, Dylan). Feel regret and its importance and then leave it behind forever.
But most importantly, know that I love you. If I wind up dead, or crazy, embarrassing, normal, or unbelievably cool I will always love you. But I had to learn how to. So will you. My only responsibility as your mother is to teach you that.

With all the bits of my silly little heart, your adoring mother,

Kiersten