Chop Wood, Carry Water

Dear Lulu,

Many years ago lived a man with dreams, ideas and words so big that some of the world couldn’t handle his greatness. His words were so powerful that 44 years after they were gone, you sat on my lap listening to them and shed a handful of tears when you heard he was killed. You were confused and thought he was a King. I whispered “he was.” You said it’s not fair that he was killed when all he wanted was for people to be nice. I whispered “you’re right.” You wanted to know if I had ever met him and I said “no, but I was lucky enough to meet his son.”  I let each tear fall without intervention, explanation, or even the dab of a tissue. Some tears are so deep that not even mommies can stop them.

You worried someone would shoot me because my skin is darker than yours. I held back giggles and told you I think we’re past that. I told you how important it is that on this very day, our president is being sworn in for his second term, dawning skin the color of the King we weep for.

Later that day I watched you sprint toward a door and fling your 35lb self flat against it to hold it open for an elderly lady with a walker. Unprompted but certainly not unnoticed. I watched you flirt with refugee children, smiling your full teeth grin and shouting “hello” to every face in your view. I watched you hold hands with your sister while  she was  falling asleep, drunk off a day of snow and laughter. Uncharacteristic, but serene. I thought to myself that you are part of his dream. A feeling so great that it could dry any tears.

Keep on holding doors, holding hands, and holding onto hope, sweet Lulu. Keep on listening to big words and remembering the Kings and Queens who said them. Don’t lose sight of the fact that  one day you could change the world with the love you hold inside of you. You have already changed mine.

Love,

Mom