Dear my very own children: yet-to-come and who perhaps never will...
Your Mami, she's a crazy girl, she is. Everyone tells her so. She loves your Nanna and Grandad.
She wants you to be loved completely, she wants you to look at her and love her, and look at her and admire her, until the day when you start seeing that actually she's not perfect, but she's hoping that you will work out that it's okay to love her anyway.
She's hoping that you won't stop with her either, she's hoping you won't make the same mistake as her and start thinking that people's mistakes make them unlovable. Because that is not true. You ARE lovable even when you make mistakes, because God loves you, He loves you completely.
She hopes she finds the perfect Daddy for you.
Perfect is probably the wrong word really, but she knows what she means, she thinks.
She is scared of 'growing up', she's just at the start of it all really, even though she does not know if tomorrow will ever come for sure.
She often looks at it all as if she is on the outside looking in on herself, like a fish in a fishbowl, but when she remembers again that she IS that fish, she starts to swim and wriggle and squirm like crazy, because one day she is going to get older, and maybe one day she will have you, and one day she will die too. So for now she is clinging to hope. Because when her thoughts get too big for her to understand she strips it all back, and is left clinging to hope, and God's love for her.
She went to the Dominican Republic this summer just gone, and she's really longing and begging God right now, because all she wants right now is to go back out there. That is consuming her quite a lot, her word for 2013 is 'now'...slightly ironic that she is embracing the now by writing to her children that she doesn't know if she'll ever have.
She tells people, almost daily that she never wants to have you. Because children make her "squirm, and they cry, and they cause trouble," and how on earth is she going to go to the Dominican Republic AND have you? Truth is, underneath all the heebeejeebees, she's longing for you. There's a space in her heart and it says 'reserved' because it is for you. That's how God made her, she reckons.
If you ever come, she hopes that one day you will grow old, and have children and grandchildren. She hopes you will love God even more than she does, she hopes that you will love God so that your children love God and their children love God, just as her Mummy and Daddy have.
She knows that one day you will be in her position, you will be making big decisions about your future, you will be wriggling out of her care, and she just wants you to know that she loves you.
She thinks herself crazy to write a letter to children who may never be, in the third person as if she's not writing it herself, and the truth is she is just a bit crazy. Or atleast other people think so, she sometimes wonders if the other people just don't know what crazy means. She thinks that she should be more crazy.
Right now she is remembering walking along this street with warm rain falling from above, she had just been to this souvenir shop, the sort of souvenirs that you can buy in any shop in the place. She doesn't really know where she is going, but she really needs the toilet. Her shoes are walking boots, and they are really muddy, and she's not too happy about the dirt in the clothes she is wearing. The cars on the road are crazy, they're honking and there's a lot of noise really. She follows the others into a bar sort of thing, she heads straight to the toilet, she waits until it is free, and then the others let her go first, probably because she has been moaning so much. The toilet is pretty foul, but she's not overly bothered, its become the norm. She heads into the bar to meet the rest of them, they're sitting around having a drink. The bar looks out onto a beach, it's not a particularly nice day, the sea is very grey, and the storms have been blowing quite a lot. After a while she goes out to meet some of the others on the beach, they're just messing out, some of them are jumping in the sea: fully clothed. She worries about the sand getting into her shoes, and steers clear of the sand being thrown around. The ones who are all wet from the sea threaten to hug her, but that's okay because she is already wet from the rain. They decide they want to play volley ball, so she follows her friend, hand in hand, to go find someone to lend them a ball. Her friend speaks in Spanish, and the guy offers two, both are in really bad shape, but they take the slightly better one. her friend teaches her to say 'basura' because the ball; it is really 'rubbish'. They play volleyball for quite sometime, and your Mami, she is still quite sure that her team won the game, but nobody counted, so she doesn't know. But she did really love it, even if she herself was pretty basura at it!
You see, her time in the Dominican Republic, she remembers so many little details, and sometimes they just come back to her. Like the really hot sand: on days when the sun shone bright and hot right from the start, when she and her friends got onto the sand a bit after midday it was red hot, they would race each other to the sea, flinging their flip flops off, so that they could cool their feet.
Your Mami doesn't really know why she's sitting here writing all this, or even why she decided that she should be called 'Mami' for now rather than 'Mummy'.
She would love to give you, and her future self, lots of advice, but she knows that it would be better to let time play it's card.
Your Mami is really scared of living, and really scared of having you, but she knows she will love you completely.
She rests in the knowledge that her greatest cheerleader is her Father God, her Papa.
Dios te bendiga,