You are an amazing father, the best. But sometimes, I miss you. This is why.

Thank you for being the mother that I want to be.

When you fall in love with your kids, you fall in love forever.

Could he have another child for me?

I’d never seen you cry before, but you cried the day I told you I had breast cancer.

But those dark eyes had gazed with so much pain and sadness into my distracted green ones, and I saw her. And she saw that I saw.

I have a great network, parents, husband, friends. But really what I want to do today is tell you about my boys.

A creative fervor is upon me. I feel it in everything I do, need it with an intensity, a voraciousness. Without it, nothing feels quite right.

“It’s going to get better,” I reassure her. “It just takes time.”

I can still remember my seventeen-year-old self swearing that I’d never be like my mother or parent like her.