Daughter, before you go to kindergarten, before you meet dozens of five-year-olds who talk, walk, act and look differently than you, I need to make one thing clear. You will never, ever get in trouble for being kind. I will never be upset with you for loving another, no matter what they look like, what words they use, what color they are or what kind of clothes they wear.
Of course I want you to be safe. I want to cover you in all sorts of tracking devices, chastity belts, and body armor. I want to give your teacher an exhaustive list of all your quirks and sit next to you everyday at lunch to make sure you eat enough. If it weren’t super weird, I’d consider holding your hand every day at school this year, even though I’ve student-taught kindergarten before and liken it to an extra fresh hell.
But I don’t want to ever give you the impression that life is something to fear, that humanity is something to fear. For the most part, everyone just wants to be loved.
Especially the ones who are hard to love.
That kid who keeps making fart noises and laughing hysterically? Love him.
That kid who went to the principal’s office for cutting another kid’s hair? Love her.
That kid who doesn’t know how to count to ten? Love her too.
That kid who peed all over the bathroom wall? Yep, even him.
That kid who cussed out the teacher? Absolutely. She needs your love so desperately.
Because here’s the thing. You might be just what they need.
I know, because I’ve been loved by you. And you were what I needed. I know what it is to be changed by you, to have my insides reconfigure because of your kindness. You’ve got it in you, this ability to infuse those around you with goodness. You can do that.
So do that. For everyone. This year and all the years after. I promise I won’t be mad. In fact, there’s nothing you could do that would make me more proud.
I love you fiercely and unconditionally, forever and ever.
Mom
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This article originally appeared at JordanHarrell.com.
