When you were born, I protected you from physical harm, strangers, the cold and the sun. I carefully strapped you into a car seat every day. I kept you clean and well-fed. I prayed for you. Yes, I prayed for you.
All of these years later, I find myself not praying, but wishing… wishing that I could clear the fog from your eyes so that you could see what I see… what others see but don’t share for fear of upsetting you or being called meddlesome. Perhaps I have a terrible way of communicating my fear for you… to you… but know that the bottom line, no matter how harshly or ineloquently communicated, is that I still live to protect you and I love you more than you are capable of understanding.