dear skipping little girl from yesterday,

This is what I saw. Darling you skipping down the sidewalk.
Then your mom (?) says: "what do you THINK you're doing? You better get back over here or no birthday cake for you."
Then you ambled on over and you both continued on.

This was difficult to see for so many reasons.

Obviously this woman has not a clue that skipping is one of the most joyous movements our bodies can create.
Also obviously she has forgotten her own joy if she didn't just catch right up to this child by SKIPPING!
And also it provided for me a chance to work on not going immediately to huffyland in my mind and chastising this woman for so downtroddenly speaking to this girl. Dressed all in pink by the way.

Instead in my mind I spoke to the child and said :
hold on to your joy
skip  to your heart's content
always seek happiness
fun is always fun
hold on to this spirit of whimsy

Then say "fuck the birthday cake bitch, I'm SKIPPING!!!"
ooops, huffyland.

WHEEEEEE!!!

dear blue winter coat,

You are a men's small, purchased from Campmor many years ago.
The sleeves fit my gorilla arms.
The hood has kept my neck so toasty and warm this long winter.
The multi pockets hold lip stuff and dog cookies and plastic bags for scooping up the poop.
My fanny is generously covered by the length.
A good coat.
A very fine and good coat.
Thank-you for sheltering me.
And if we note the date, I think we would all concur that it is time for you to rest for the next 7 or 8 months.
It's really time.
REALLY, REALLY TIME.
Adieu, bleu.
Et merci encore.

dear that boy who molested me when I was 4. or maybe I was 5?

It's okay. I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago.

What I remember more is the feeling of shame I had. My mom was getting a bath ready and I knew my undies were inside out and I thought if she noticed that she would be disappointed in me. It's 4 year old reasoning, but I really didn't want her to ask me about it.

I don't even think about it other than remembering that shame. And how I didn't protect myself.

Here's a thought:

dear younger me,

I'm sorry I didn't know how to say no. Or don't. Or stop.

dear older me,

It's okay. I forgive you. I forgave you instantly.

Love,
me

dear forgiveness,

No matter the pain inflicted or the the hurt felt or the inconceivable unfairness of random or
premeditated acts, you are the way that we heal and forge ahead in life.

You are the only way we can ever, ever find an alignment within ourselves that enables us to breathe
freely, with no hatred or bitterness or any other emotion that hinders us from living with the zest and
joy that is our birthright.

Living with constant hatred in our hearts impedes all the wonders of this gorgeous Universe from
entering into our existence.

I don't pretend that it may be easy to forgive. I do believe it is part of our make-up. I believe the
capacity to forgive is one of the best things about our aliveness. I believe we enrich ourselves when we
forgive.

Because who among us has never done a deed for which we wish to be forgiven?

Mr. Mandela and Dr. King, they knew about forgiveness. The twinkle in Mr. Mandela's eye? That
doesn't come from hating Apartheid and your jailers. That comes from a light heart.

A heart that has shown forgiveness.