Everyone went for coffee with their younger selves
But I couldn’t do it
I couldn’t face her, all bright eyed and excited to start living the fairytale she planned
Of course the point of the coffee date is to prove that we turned out alright. Right?
That’s what we’re supposed to say.
It’s ugly though, little one.
The good news is that you have the burden and the curse of being authentic
Which isn’t something you ever dreamed of being
You didn’t know how much your bloodline needed you to question, shake things up, and not conform
In that way, future you is someone we should both be proud of, little one,
But I just couldn’t hold your hand in a café and break down into tears, as I know I would when I’d see your sweet naive face
I’m not afraid of crying in public anymore, but I know you’d be scared
You’re not used to seeing emotions
Not safe ones anyway
So you’d think you were unsafe with me if you saw me cry the way I am now.
But, oh, baby girl, these tears aren’t what they seem.
Never let them tell you that you have nothing to cry about.
I wish we could sit in a café crying together, and I could hold you and hold space for your heavy emotions until maybe you can catch your breath long enough to see that I never left your side.
I suppose we could do that.
Maybe I am worried about how we’d look to others after all
Even though I have spent years convincing myself that what others think no longer concerns me.
I guess I’m still unlearning a lot of the things they taught you, little one.
Maybe we can grab a coffee one day,
When it’s not trending.
Our way.
We should both bring tissues.
Mommy and the Monsters 