as i watch the days tick by on the calendar, anxiously awaiting your arrival and frantically stitching more and more lessons into your blanket, i have discovered that there are recurring themes in the pistachio colored yarn.
i cannot count how many rows of your blanket have been created with passion in the tips of my fingers and on the edge of my mind.
one could look up the definition of passion in the dictionary. it's in there.
in fact, mr. webster has several ideas on what this word means.
passion is not meant to be seen in black and white and so to put letters together on a page and create a definition is not to know passion.
and my prayer for you - the rows and rows of stitches i have created with this in mind - is that you will not know the definition of passion, but that you will know passion.
i have felt passionate about many things in the 27 years prior to your conception.
passion lives on and under our skin.
it feeds on the beats of our heart and quenches its thirst with our tears and laughter.
sometimes, passion dies and when it does, we mourn it with a grief that tears out of our chest and spills onto the floor.
sometimes, passion simply leave and when it does, we wave, we sigh, and we head in a new direction.
sometimes, passion teases us and we chase it thinking that if we could catch it we could cage it and make it ours. (this rarely happens, my dear one.)
sometimes, passion embraces us and we are not even aware that it has done so until it lets go or someone pries it away.
always, there is passion. but you cannot seek it out, my sweet girl.
you must let it come to you. and it will.
and it will grip you. it will reach out and brush your cheek with the subtlest touch.
but that brief encounter will ignite in you, on you and all around you
remember, my darling, that passion is not just about romance.
that is a small piece to a much larger puzzle.
in my life, the pieces of the passion puzzle are constantly in motion.
there is a very large section of the puzzle that is your daddy, to be certain. not only does he ignite passion within me, he feeds passion that has been there for years. and in doing so, creates new passion.
other pieces of the puzzle have experiences stamped on them -
lying in freshly cut grass watching clouds float by.
climbing mountains and hiding behind rocks that were just the right size.
hearing a melody pour from the piano for the first time.
watching letters strung into words strung into sentences strung into life.
listening to bob dylan as he tips his hat while singing 'rainy day women'.
then there are those pieces that have faces.
some with names, others nameless.
my puzzle is different than your daddy's puzzle and, despite our best efforts, your puzzle will be different than ours.
you cannot seek out passion, it will elude you.
passion will find you, my darling one.
and when it does, it is my hope, my prayer, my stitch that you will open your arms and breathe it in.
let it engulf you.
let it take over your life, if even for a blink in time.
and know this, wee one.
in all my life,
despite all the passion i have experienced,
nothing compares to the passion i have for you and being your mother.
"The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions." - Alfred Lord Tennyson
go well, my sweet girl.