My darling Zeke,
This past Sunday was your 14th birthday. You were with your dad, but you and I had planned to go shopping for a new skateboard. You have recently gotten very into skateboarding - taking your board with you everywhere, constantly practicing your ollies, putting holes in my delicate lathe-and-plaster walls by accidently crashing the board into them. It's been fun seeing you develop this new interest, and in typical Zeke fashion, you practice tirelessly because you want to get good at it. But you were riding a crappy board that had been cobbled together from a couple of other crappy boards, so for your birthday I promised you a shiny new one.
We ended up not going because a couple of your good friends came over and you wanted to hang out with them. Which was absolutely fine. I'm happy that you have some close friends that you spend time with. It's as it should be.
Instead, we went on Monday after I got out of court. You picked out an awesome board with all the accoutrements and I ended up spending far more than I thought I would have to on a skateboard, but I was happy to do it.
This has been crazy year. It started off with you and Josie still doing school remotely, which absolutely sucked. You were miserable and bored and depressed. Sometimes you took it out on me - I guess that's par for the course for parents of teenagers.
You were unhappy, you weren't getting enough exercise, and you were unhappy with your life and with yourself. You didn't like how you looked and worried that you were fat (you weren't). I told you that you were obviously getting ready for a growth spurt, and whatever minimal COVID- and isolation-related fluff you were carrying would disappear in no time.
And man, did it ever.
Over the past five months, you have transformed into a different person. You have grown a few inches and totally leaned out. Your face has lost any semblance of baby fat and you look like you're three or four years older than you are. You're growing your hair out and it looks amazing. You're beautiful.
But even more importantly, you're wonderful.
I don't know what happened, but at some point in the late spring a switch flipped and you emerged from your funk. Maybe it was just a maturity growth spurt to go along with your physical growth spurt. Maybe it was the bike camp adventure you went on in June - two weeks biking and camping the length of Vermont with a bunch of other kids your age. Maybe it was finishing school and getting vaccinated and feeling like there was some respite from the strictures of COVID life.
Whatever it was, since then you have been consistently delightful. You're sweet and kind and affectionate. You're helpful most of the time. You might not always do what I ask, but you're never a dick about it. You're fun to be around. You have nice friends, many of whom are always at my house eating all of my food. You're enjoying being back in school.
Of course, life is not without its bumps.
This year also brought a significant problem that the family is dealing with. Suffice it to say that it threw you for a big loop and was starting to send you down an emotional tailspin. I was unable and unwilling to watch you spiral when things were just starting to feel good and stable for you after years of dealing with some traumatic shit, both COVID-related and otherwise. So I stepped in and did my best to fix the problem, and things have calmed down again.
It sure scared me, though. I love you so much, and I have spent so much time over the past few years trying to help you navigate the trauma you experienced from the divorce, from the abuse you suffered from your first stepmom (not the current one), from the difficulties you and Dad were having, from the pandemic.
My mama-bear instincts kicked in and I was hell-bent on protecting you.
I realized that's part of what will always make our relationship special. Of course I love your sister to pieces, but she doesn't need me the way you do. She's always been more resilient than you are, and she relates to Dad more than you are able to.
So I am your safe person. And you are the one I will always rush to care for and protect, no matter what. To say that I love you doesn't begin to describe how utterly you occupy my heart.
Love love love,
Mom
