Dear Boy,

You hope for these things:

A life full of friends, family and fun.
A life full of trying new things.
A life full of laughter.
A life where you, I and all our children wake up excited and ready to be engaged
A life where we don't have to scrimp and save every last cent.
A life wherein we add love and laughter to the world around us.
A life where what each of us choose to do each day brightens another's life.
And so many more things besides. 

I'm at a place where I feel I already have all of that. And I don't think I'm delusional. There have definitely been moments and entire swaths of years when I didn't think I had any of it. I have been to some pretty dark places, but I'm in the light today. It's weird because the circumstances in my life right now would seem to be the perfect ground for a harvest of hopelessness, but I've never felt so consistently happy and at peace. I've never been able to face life so humbly and with such gratitude for it. Maybe it's because I realized that I have a good chance at a shortened life. Maybe it's because the place where I put my faith has changed. Maybe it's because not knowing things you once thought you had completely figured out is immensely humbling.  Maybe I've just learned good coping strategies. Whatever it is, all I see is abundance. And love flowing through everything. And miracles. And treasures within myself.  

It doesn't mean I don't have goals, but I do relish life right now. I recognize that things won't always be like they are right now. I recognize that I missed some beautiful years when the boys were young while I was wishing for something else and sitting at the bottom of a deep pit. I regret the abundance that I missed. I wish I had the skills back then to climb out of my pit. But I did get out and now I recognize that life is always wonderful and mysterious and abundant.  It has handed me an incredible opportunity to show love to my parents and to answer a very acute need for service. Although it feels sometimes that this situation is lasting forever, it really won't. I don't want to miss it. I don't want to be too caught up wishing for something else. That day will come without my pining for it. 

This is not an indictment of your position. I understand you. I don't think you're schizophrenic.  I think your challenge is normal and I think it is redeemable. I hope we will get to that place you describe together. I hope you will soon feel satisfied with yourself and even your situation. Not complacent. Complacency is not something I imply in any of this. I hope we will always be ambitious. There's just a way to both bow to the present and get up and work. 

I love you deeply and madly. You loved me deeply this morning. And I thank you for it. 

Lady

Dear Lady,

Verbose as I may pretend to be, I have no words to convey what it feels like to be with you.
Last night, as you lay asleep in my arms and I was left alone with the night, I was uniquely happy.
Our children were safely, quietly tucked away in their beds. Hours of sleep under their belts already.
Patch was curled up and still at my feet.
You were asleep, heavy in my arms.
Even our new puppy, little Luna, was all tuckered out from the day and passed out beneath the red chair.
Everything was so very peaceful. The moment seemed timeless. How grateful I was (when so often I'm asleep before the kids are even in bed) to have been awake for that moment. Just me and a glowing fire in the corner.
Thank you for sometimes allowing me to be the last one awake. I love those moments.

I want to let you know that I still struggle with my mind a lot. I flip flop constantly and it's a daily battle to even keep myself to two varying paths a day (when otherwise it could be four or five). It feels grossly hypochondriatic to claim schizophrenia but that's what it feels like sometimes. The inside of my head is a mess.
Here's what I hope I'm truly looking for:

A life full of friends, family and fun.
A life full of trying new things.
A life full of laughter. Clutching-my-sides-with-pain kind of laughing.
A life where you, I and all our children wake up excited because we're going to spend the day pursuing something that full engages our hearts and minds (and bodies) in the best way.
A life where we don't have to scrimp and save every last cent to make sure things are covered.
A life wherein we add love and laughter to the world around us.
A life where what each of us chooses to do each day brightens another's life.
And so many more things besides.

I'm hopeful that I'll ultimately get a handle on myself. I'm hopeful that it will be soon. And I'm hopeful that when I do I'll be able to write to you about something other than my constant waffling.
Thank you for introducing me to How I Met Your Mother, BTW. It's been a fun year watching the entire story with you. You're the most incredible company I've ever known. You inspire so much in me. Particularly so much writing—and I'm not talking about our letters here. I'm talking about my haikus and poetry and prose. You are in every good thing I've ever done.

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Happy Birthday!
. . .
So I'm 34. Who saw that coming?
Normally my reaction to a birthday is that I don't feel any older, but (quite honestly) I do this year. I think I feel older because I've been focused on my career indecision so much that I can't help but see my age now as a marker for another year wasted.
Now that's a bit of a hyperbole there. No year or day or moment is truly wasted unless it's spent in bitterness, or hate, or in any other form of destructive behavior (at least that's how I feel). I have loved these past number of years. The people I've met. The places we've gone. The growth I've seen in you (blue hair—what!? :) and in our children. There is so much I am grateful for and I wouldn't trade a minute of any of it. That doesn't mean I can't have regret though—and I do.
I regret that I feel I have so much more to offer you, our children, and the world and I simply haven't offered it. I've pussy-footed around different ideas and pursuits. I've started and stopped so many things so many times that I've lost track. It's crazy! I often wonder if I'm alone in this type of behavior or if it's normal. I tend to think it's not so very normal, but perhaps it's alright to be peculiar.
Okay, well, I didn't intend for this to come across as a birthday-downer. I hope it doesn't. I hope it comes across as a letter to my best friend with whom I am comfortable simply prattling on about whatever is on my mind whether it's my birthday or not. Because that's what this really is. I simply wanted to write how I am truly feeling because that's honesty and openness and that's what I want us to have. I want you to know how much I love and trust you with any of my most embarrassing or difficult thoughts.
You are my everything.

I'm glad you enjoy the monikers I attach to you. I think your comment hit it on the nose. I call you these things: Love, Paisley, Lady, etc. so as to give you a name that is uniquely ours. I love your name—Lindsay. Lindsay is the most beautiful name and I love coming across others with the same name. Each time I hear it I remember how much I love it. I much rather enjoy, however, the names that no one else shares with you. No matter how much I love your name I love our little intimacies more.

Thank you for the Parisian birthday wishes this morning. It was wonderful company in the dark. You surely know the way to my heart, and the things that touch me most, like the "places where I've loved you" masterpiece. Please never underestimate the value of your creativity and artistic capacity. You're amazing!

Finally, I am happy it's my birthday because it makes you happy. I'm happy to celebrate 34 years alive because it signifies 12 years that I've known you (and that is reason to celebrate if ever there was any). I'm happy for 34 years because it means I have three beautiful children who will turn 10, 8 and 5 this year. It's hard to believe. Those kids are amazing.
34 to me represents another opportunity to try again to get it right. "It"being a general term for anything and everything. 34 is simply another opportunity to grow and improve myself and to, hopefully, put an end to my constant career waffling. 34 is the year we had two border collies. It's the year we fenced in our backyard. The year we made applesauce and walnut syrup. The year we finished our second bathroom. The year our oldest learns to play the guitar. It's the year our kids finally learn to keep their room clean (maybe?). It's the year you meet your niece. The year Gerret is baptized (maybe?). The year we made love more than ever before (definitely). The year we had the greatest adventures yet.
I love 34 already.
Happy Birthday!

.a Boy

Happy Birthday!

Dear Boy,

you're amazing. It's your birthday (20 minutes into it) and I'm here to tell you that you're amazing. I love your thoughts. I love when we talk lots. I love your heart. It's a good one. It's a humble one. It's a kind one. I love the direction you're pointing. I'm pointing that way to. That's how we can walk together. And I love it when we walk together. I learn so much from you. I am made better for knowing you. You inspire my mothering and my adventuring and my creating. I'm so glad you're here with me. Life has kind of been beating me up and scratching scars into my heart, but you help to treat my bruises and smooth my scars. And I love you for it. And I just love you.  

Lady 

Dear Boy,

You're asleep downstairs. I'm laying down upstairs because I don't feel so well. I have a goal to feel better more often and I understand what it will take to get there, but ... I don't know what the but is. There must be one though. Mara from ablogaboutlove wrote today about a few goals she has set for herself in the past, what she did to accomplish her goals and how each one changed her life. The first one she mentioned was the goal she made with her husband to cut out sugar. One thing she said was it was a lot easier to do because they live in Ecuador.  Maybe that's the key??? We do currently live in a culture saturated in sugar and gluttony. It's gross. 

I very vividly remember that time that your Aunt Cindy was off put by your calling me Lady. I remember thinking it was funny, because I really enjoyed being monikered by you. I still do, in fact. I like to have a name from you that no one else calls me by. You have a few. I relish them all.  

Thanks for good holiday memories. Thanks for spending time with me. Thanks for doing cool stuff with me. Thanks for dying my hair. You're amazing. Thanks for getting a puppy with me. And for adventures in PA.  Thanks for rescuing me on the side of 227 this afternoon. Thank you as always for your faith in and patience with me.  How can I ever explain how much I treasure you?  You're just in every smile and all my laughs. All the time in the world spent with you is not enough. So please stay forever. 

Lady

Dear Lady,

I really like punk rock. I think that's rather obvious.
It made me laugh to have you poking fun at it during our drive Saturday. I can't say I hear the Circus in it like you do, but it is a funny genre of music. It's my childhood though, so there's a lot of nostalgia in it for me. I'm not using that as an excuse for why I listen—I love the energy from it. That's why I listen. I think that even if I'd only just been introduced to it I would still listen to punk rock.
I recognize that I have to be careful with this type of music. A lot of it can be rather crass or destructive. I try to filter that. There's enough good punk to not need the less uplifting kind. And I'm not too proud to say that my favorite punk band is still Blink 182 no matter what anyone else says about them. I still love that stuff.
I had a young men's advisor when I was in high school who listened to punk rock. I stress LISTENED. He would talk with me about it and, at first, I just assumed he still listened. We'd talk about music and concerts and the punk rock lifestyle. Then, one day, it came out that he didn't listen to it anymore.
What!?
I didn't understand how he could know so much about it, love it so much, and yet have nothing to do with it anymore. It turned out it was his wife who had convinced him it wasn't good for their family. She convinced him (and probably he convinced himself too) that he had a responsibility to his children to not listen to punk. As if it was inherently a bad thing.
I don't think that's true.
I think that almost anything has its good and bad. For my part I choose to believe that punk rock (my punk rock) is good. I don't mind exposing my kids to it. In fact I hope my kids enjoy it. I don't care if it's their favorite music, but I hope they don't hate it.
Even if all they think of it is that it makes good clown car music . . .

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Dear Lady,

Do you remember when I first introduced you to my aunt Cindy's family? I introduced you as Lindsay. Later, though, I called out to you by saying "Hey, Lady!" and my aunt immediately verbally lashed out at me for referring to you that way. She thought I was being impersonal and rude. Things got rather awkward for a moment there until you and I explained our use of the term Lady and its Peter Pan reference.
Do you remember that? I think about it almost every time I come here to write a letter to you.

So how are you?
It's a new year. How does 2016 feel to you? To me 2016 feels like Batman v Superman is finally coming out and I'm entirely prepared for it to be no good (all the while secretly hoping it will be amazing (probably not though (but I can hope))). I have those Christmas movie tickets I could use on it, but I'm not convinced that's what I'll do. I'm sure you wouldn't be overly devastated if I chose something else :). It's always a little bit of a dilemma when we get free movie passes, because I feel obligated to overly scrutinize what's coming out and try to pick out the best theater experience. When there're things like Avatar, or Gravity it's a little easier to decide—I'm not aware of anything so very ground breaking this year.
Anyway, I'm excited for the weekend with you. For a crazy drive down to Philadelphia just to visit a puppy (and then not even be able to purchase her). For some time alone in Ithaca with just you, me, and Nolan. For the potential digging of a small pond in our side yard. For games of Dominion. And for every other moment spent together.
Thank you for your good company and laughter.
I love you.

.Patrick