Sometimes our past comes back and jumps up in our faces. You’re so little, but you’re big enough to have a past. You see large pink flowers placed on your sweet bald head. You see a tutu laying across your little dimpled legs. You are asleep in a stroller at Disney dressed as Snow White. You whip around and look at me and I see it, like lightning and then gone: a swift feeling of betrayal. I just hold you and say, I’m sorry, baby. Mommy didn’t know. 

When someone hurts you with their words and you turn and we lock eyes, your face red and your lips tight but quivering, when you have to be brave long before the age a child should have to be brave, when my lips begin to quiver, too, because the truth is I’m not half as brave as you…I just hold you and say, I’m sorry baby, they didn’t know. 

When I talk with those who knew nothing about any of this before God gifted this world with you, as eyes open and hearts unbind (for hearts were never meant to be bound to anything but Love), they say, “I didn’t know.”

I didn’t know. They didn’t know. I read the headlines (and against all sanity, the comments) and I see so many that don’t know. Sometimes I wonder about the likelihood of you being born in times like this. So much hatred rising up and coating otherwise beautiful things. Ignorance clouding our eyes like darkness.

But then I remember, Elyn, that your name means light, and that’s what you have been and what you are. I’m sorry we didn’t know, I’m sorry you have to be brave so early but sweet baby, you are light, and you are shining on some hard and beautiful truths. You are undeniable, my dear E, and those who think otherwise…they just don’t know yet.


One thought on “Light.

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