A Letter to My Son

Dear Knox,

The house is quiet when you are gone. The conversation is a little more muted. The noise is a little less silly. I know you are having a fun time with your grandparents, but I miss your sounds and the space you take up.

I can feel the difference as acutely as a paper cut – it is small, but you are always aware of it. There is no one here to help me chase and corral the dog like you. There is no one here who makes your sister laugh like you do. There is no one here who reminds me of the importance of each day – Mondays are for Making, Tuesdays are for Tasting…

You, my dear boy, have reached the delicate age where you shift effortlessly between a child and a little adult. You have such a big imagination – not a day goes by that you do not spend some time pretending to be someone else. (But, I hope you know that all I ever want you to be is yourself.)

At the same time, you ask grown up questions. You have an old soul. You understand God in a way that even I don’t, and you ask sophisticated questions about faith on a regular basis making me pause and reevaluate things myself.

You are not afraid to show when you are scared, but you are growing more courageous each day. You leap far into the lake with no fear, but you hesitate at the edge of other risks until you can confirm it is safe. Sweet child, I hope you always make wise choices but do not let fear of the unknown hold you back.

You live in a world where magic exists and invite others to come along. You believe in love and honor – a true knight in a six-year-old's body. You help us believe that these things exist and remind us how much better the world we be if everyone did.

You care about animals and the earth. You want to learn as much as you can as quickly as you can about all the bugs, ocean animals, and creatures God made. You love to adventure through your own backyard. You grew a pine tree in a coke bottle. You’re such a cool kid.

You cry when you are hurt, but you also cry when things are beautiful. You cry when movies are sad and you cry when they are happy. You are moved by music and art in a way most adults are not. You recognize when music represents sadness and when art tells a story. Don’t ever hide these feelings. They make you special and unique.

You are smart. You are starting to read and you read with emotion and voices. You can add and subtract – and you are your dad’s best game companion because you have already learned how to count the dice and add up your points. We are excited to see how God uses these skills in other areas of your life as you grow.

I know you are having fun and we want you to enjoy this special time. But, whenever you leave us, home is just not the same. It’s too quiet. It’s too still. I miss the loud squeals of excitement and delight. I miss being surprised by whatever character you are portraying. I miss your songs and prayers. I miss you – all of you.

Love,

Your Mama