eye spy

P e r spec t i v e

(A letter to my daughter)

Dearest Aurora,

You've just turned three, and you are incredibly delicious and beautiful, and I cannot believe the spunk and grace three years on this planet can get you. I, thirty-four years your senior, am reevaluating all the habits I've already formed in this new role as mother. You probably already know me well enough to predict I'll talk about the ones I don't like first... especially the one where I say Hold on one second before every I'd love to play with you. I know you won't remember all of this consciously, but I hate to think somewhere in your subconscious I'm planting seeds that all my busy work is more important than being present with you. It's not true, my love, it's n o t t r u e - maybe someday you and I can forgive me for being so short-sighted and silly.

My amazing voice teacher Warren Senders says hundreds of things I want to write down and share, but during our last session he showed me a small piece of wood. I carry this around with me - it's 10,000 years old, he said. It holds sunlight that once shone on our ancient ancestors. I'm paraphrasing here, but the point is, I often think of that piece of wood, and the calm and grounded feeling I get when I remember what is actually important. How nothing is larger than time and light and space and our ability to connect with all that through stillness and appreciation. How much can be saved from a day or an hour by just remembering for one moment that that moment will pass. The dishes may still be in the sink and the laundry will almost DEFinitely be unfolded but what endures about you and me is our love and affection. I know with every fiber we've been tangled up in this dance since time out of mind, and I promise you I'll keep training and praying to honor that truth properly.

To everything you're about to teach me, this year and hopefully for many more to come -

Mama