A 2020 love story.
I rang in 2020 in a hospital room, and I concluded it on a living room couch.
Everything in between was a journey through pain and love.
2020 was a dual love story for me.
After almost losing my mom to a heart attack in December of 2019, I had resolved that I would take 2020 to focus on love. And as I reflected on New Year’s Eve 2020, I can, with certainty, say that I stuck with my resolution all year.
Before that, I was asleep at the wheel.
I never realized a parent-child relationship deserves as much nurturing as your relationship with your spouse.
Also, it appears I have always been a romantic. I recognized a love I had been neglecting for far too long. My voice.
This was the love triangle I spent most of 2020 focused on.
Love Story Preface: The Land Before Digital Time
My passion for bringing words to life dates back to when I was a kid. I know this because my Mom hoarded my childhood journals for over 30 years.
Somehow she knew. That someday I would rekindle this fire and find inspiration by reconnecting with my inner child. The child that didn’t have access to social media and electronics. The child that had paper, pen, and dreams.
She kept great care of my diaries and journals and waited patiently for me to find my way back to my first love…writing.
She mailed my childhood journals to me a few months ago. As I paged through the material from the late 80s and early 90s, my first insights were:
- There is proof that John Stamos was my first childhood crush,
- The Bills losing the Super Bowl didn’t phase me (well, the first time didn’t…there is no evidence that the subsequent three didn’t sting a little),
- It snowed a lot in Buffalo, and
- I loved my Mom…like a whole lot.
If only I had collaborated with Drake back then, my poetry would sound more like rap lyrics:
“I only love Uncle Jesse and my mommy. I’m sorry.”
Love Story Part 1: Blame it on the Hormones.
Growing up with two older brothers, I should have made it more of a point to align with the estrogen in our home. Instead, I instigated any possible attention I could get from the boys and missed all the life lessons on crafting and bedazzling from my Mom.
Thank God, Pinterest wasn’t a thing back then.
I just wasn’t interested in girly stuff. I was a tomboy through and through, so my recollection (and my diary) fail to reveal a lot of traditional mother-daughter bonding.
That’s why, when I found the poems I wrote in second grade, that seemingly would have looked like starry-eyed teenager puppy love, I was so happy to know that I did give her a memory to think fondly upon.
There were five poems in total. As embarrassing as it is to publish my second-grade love poetry (you’ll have to wait to the end to read them!), I am in a little bit of disbelief at their relevancy today.
Several of the poems reference what would appear to be long-distance love. In second grade, I could not have known that I would move from Buffalo to Cleveland (obviously because I have great taste in football teams) and be separated from her for nearly a year in a global pandemic.
Yet somehow, I needed her to know that no matter what, no matter the distance between us, I would always leave space for her in my heart.
I hope she remembered that all these years later.
Love Story Part 2: Dream Big, Love Hard.
The other surprising element of my prose was the absence of self-limiting beliefs in my words. The poem entitled “A Dream” reminds me so much of the blog I wrote about my son’s uncrafty birthday party.
In 2020, the other part of my love story was finding my way back to writing. Sharing my voice and my stories offers the connection I need during this time of isolation.
But, I almost didn’t do it.
I was scared to put my words out there for everyone to see.
I was scared to let people see the unfiltered version of me.
The 8-year-old me wrote about dreaming big.
The 38-year-old me was scared to lose big.
Why?
- Because I didn’t believe in myself.
- Because I have imposter syndrome.
- Because I didn’t think anyone cared.
The eight-year-old me didn’t give AF about all that. She thought I’d grow up to be 100% that b*tch.
Looking at my old journals is like looking into a window of my childhood soul. It’s also like looking at my own kids right now. They dream big and love hard.
Luckily, I am blessed with supportive people in my life that pushed me to follow my dreams.
My awakening to the importance of the parent-child intimate relationship isn’t just about reconnecting with my Mom. It’s about building an indestructible bond with my own kids.
It’s hard to imagine that before they were in remote schooling, I would only see them a couple of hours out of the day. Between my job and their activity calendars, there just wasn’t any time for Us.
The quarantine has brought us so much closer. Weekends are spent watching movies together, working on puzzles, and playing board games.
I want to think if they were to write a poem to me, their words would spill out with authenticity.
But maybe writing isn’t their thing? I’m finding out there is a lot I didn’t know about my kids. My son loves the guitar, and my daughter loves to draw. Michael wants to start coding videos games (taking after his software developer Daddy) and Gianna wants to learn piano and violin.
I love that I know this about them. I love that they know this about themselves. That they have been given the space to explore themselves a bit more.
Who knows, maybe 2020 was a love story for them, too?
Without further delay, here are my second-grade love poems to my Mom (P.S. – I love you, Mom):
I Miss You
Love & Kisses Hugs & Misses From all the times we've been apart No matter what you do You'll always hold a place in my heart.
Caring
Caring & Sharing Kindness & Love All come together In one big hug
A Dream
A dream is a wish A wish is a hope A hope is something you want to happen If you believe in yourself Your dream will come true Believe in yourself Do, Do, Do!
Hugs
Hugs are beautiful and nice and bright Under the trees, or under the light Give me a hug from the heaven above So when I'm without you I'll remember your love
Love
Love is beautiful love is bright Over the heavens over the light Valentine's caring and Valentine's love Exchanging cards, exchanging hugs
In what ways have you reflected on your childhood beliefs compared to your current beliefs?
I am sending you all my peace, love, and poetry.
this [mama]. 