The text came from nowhere, jarring me from present to past in an instant.

Words, from Maine to California.

From my brother…

Cleaning out mom’s attic. Were u ever looking for your dad’s old Vietnam diary?

No… I wasn’t looking for it.

Because I didn’t even know it existed.

I’ve spent my life wishing for something… anything… that could help me to know him in some way and in an instant, that became possible.

K. found some stuff. i’ll set it aside n ship it 2 u.

How did I not know it even existed? Did I ever ask my mom? Did she forget she had it? Is there something between those covers that she didn’t think I was ready to read?

Everything I know about my dad has been told to me by someone else… filtered through their own experiences and love for him.

Distilled.

Though I’ve longed to know what my dad thought of me… of being a parent… of how he viewed his world, I’m preparing myself for much less.

Yet, somehow, maybe more.

Maybe it will be filled with what he ate, music he loved, places he visited.

Maybe I’ll find clues to who he was. Hints at the way he and I are alike… the parts of who I am that are hardwired… handed to me at birth, before he could teach and influence me.

I’ve longed to find some tangible thread to connect us.

Waiting for my brother to mail to me the very thing that I’ve grieved the non-existence of is truly excruciating.

I didn’t ask him what it says. I won’t because I can’t.

Hearing his words over the phone would cheapen them, somehow.

Even if they simply read, “It was hot today. Had a ham sandwich for lunch.”

Somehow, even the simplicity of that will be enough.

But, now I wait.

Dear Katie,

We sat at brunch, chatting about the week ahead over our blueberry bagels, but we couldn’t help but overhear their joy.

Happiness has a way of carrying through the air, touching everyone within its reach.

She sat, with her maxi dress stretched across her growing belly, and spoke of all that was to come.

His sparkling eyes echoed her anticipation. His voice carried this new wonder that had become a part of their world.

The nursery… the tiny toes… the right toys, the perfect name.

Seven years ago, your daddy and I were enveloped in that same joyous anticipation.

We waited for you. We dreamed about you. We couldn’t wait until the day when we could hold you in our arms.

I wanted so desperately to approach the couple at brunch… to tell them that the moments with your first baby are everything they dream they’ll be. And so much more.

Because, my sweet girl, as much as I knew that I would adore you, I could have never imagined just how much magic you would bring to our lives.

Thank you for gifting those months of anticipation to us and for every single moment of happiness you’ve brought us since.

Thank you for making us parents.

With a heart overflowing with love,

Mommy

We’ve decided to keep one of them… the one who isn’t sick of my obsession with capturing every single moment of their lives.

The past week has brought with it changes… changes that I didn’t feel quite ready for.

(Who am I kidding? I’m truly not a fan of change. Like ever.)

First there was the move from the crib to the toddler bed on Saturday for Matthew …

And yesterday brought big changes for Katie.

First came her first real haircut… 5 inches gone within 10 minutes.

Then, in the evening, before I had even completely wrapped my brain around how much a simple haircut aged her, she lost her first tooth.

But that smile right there?

And Matthew’s sheer joy over being in a big boy bed?

Well, I’m going to tuck those memories away for when the next big changes come.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll greet them with more a bit more grace.

Because I’m starting to see how well they welcome change.

And how can I not be happy about that?