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| For the past month, Martin and I have spent our vacation days (mostly Wednesdays) |
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| Here :) |
Dear Markus,
Congratulations – you are an adult. Last weekend, you took your first trip for hockey since your shoulder injury, your favorite thing to do and I loved being able to watch you play again. Just as it should be. And the excitement that flowed through me was a shock – and I mean that both literally and figuratively. There was an electric current pulsing in and out of my veins as my smile widened and stretched from the east to the west and back again, more proud than I’ve ever been. It surprised me, this pride. I mean, babies grow and learn to walk and talk and ask for their parents’ credit cards. That’s what they do. But Markus, I was completely awestruck by you. It was like witnessing the complete manifestation of your independence, balancing atop two strong and determined ankles. And I just melted.
You’re growing-up fast now and time is snowballing. Your favorite game is “Hockey?” which isn't a surprise: you have been playing it since you were three-years old. The rule, of course, is that the game is for life, so you spend the bulk of your day brushing up on your conditioning and discussing whether or not this is a good decision or that is a better one. Juniors or College? Dorms or home? Oh, the decisions, Markus, and on some days, I feel the weight of these. What if I taught you the wrong way? What if you’re forever condemned in hockey because you pronounce “Canada” wrong or you call it a biscuit instead of puck? What if, what if, what if?
I found a piece of play-doh stuck between two hockey photo frames last week. It was wedged so perfectly that it required four minutes of struggle and a few nail marks to retrieve it, and my mind immediately raced to worst case scenario: that you’d missed your opportunity to be scouted at last months all-star game and will be left behind, and now the recruiter is going to sit at the edge of his couch, slowly assigning other players until you have no teams left to play for that renders you unable to pursue your dreams or passion, and you would never learn to bounce back because surely, by now, the recruits have all found the 170 pound player and you simply couldn’t possibly propel yourself forward with that much resistance from your goals.
This is what my head is like, Markus. It is a messy place, full of worry and anxiety and worst case scenarios that don’t quite reflect any semblance of reality. The “What If?” soundtrack is always on repeat, and until this weekend, I had a hard time hearing anything above the noise.
But then you started skating. And the play-doh came out. And your birthday is today. And all of these signs are pointing to resilience, for all of us. We are stronger than we know.
When I taught you to drive, you couldn’t wrap your head around the concept that if your foot wasn’t on the gas, you weren't moving forward. So for the first few weeks, there was a lot of back and forth and fast and slow and electricity and not until, finally, it clicked and you learned that there was a beautiful balance to it all. That your foot could be either on the pedal, or not, and we could still get from A to B.
And this year has felt a lot like those early weeks as you learned to operate that electric vehicle that was larger than you, something that had weight. We had days of ebb and flow, Markus, where the ride was a bit jerky, yes, but we’d ride along happily until I’d realize my foot was off the brake – that I hadn’t checked your grades or given you enough gas money or texted you that day – and then I’d slam the brake out of fear and insecurity and we’d both feel the jolt. And then I’d gun it, pressing my foot on the pedal as hard as I could, praying this phase would pass because it was more than I could handle.
But we’re older now. And Martin being wiser, and more experienced says that he will sponsor you and we’re strong, Markus. Strong enough to drive wherever we please, with the radio blaring and the “What If?” soundtrack nowhere in sight. Strong enough to roll down the windows and let the wind mess with our hair and our expectations.
And, as of last weekend, strong enough to forgo the car entirely and on some days, just skate. Congratulations, sweet Markus. This was a big milestone for all of us.
XO,
Mama
