To Johan on the Occasion of Your 12th Birthday

Dear Johan:

When I think back on you being eleven, it seems like everything changed this year.  You have moved from childhood into adolescence, and you are doing it with grace and in a style very much your own.  You met with the Minneapolis Chief of Police, and asked him what he was doing to make it safer to be a person of color in our city.  You graduated from elementary school and gave an inspiring speech to your classmates. You got a phone. You flew unchaperoned to California.  You started middle school and earned a Student of the Month award within weeks.  You have reconnected and started building independent relationships with your family in the Dominican Republic.   It’s been a big year.

And yet, it’s the things that haven’t changed that remind me no matter what life holds, you will rise to the occasion.  

It’s the way you know yourself and stay steady when the waters are racing. 

It’s the way you cheer for your soccer teammates and laugh freely whether the game is a win or a loss.

It’s the way you swing baby Lila in the air, just wild enough to be fun but gentle enough to be safe.  

It’s the loving way you and your best friend look at each other and have each other's back.

It’s the way you still want blueberries and peanut butter on your waffles.  

It’s the way you lean into discovering more about yourself, from learning how to care for your beautiful curls to practicing Spanish on your own accord.

It’s the way you wear Uncle David’s silver bracelet to school every day because it comforts you.  

It’s the way you enthusiastically accept new challenges and adventures, whether it's tasting a new preparation of squid or going snowboarding in the mountains of Colorado.

It’s the way you speak truth to power and tell your peers that bigoted speech is never ok. 

It’s the way you show up authentically yourself every single day.

It is a great joy to witness you become the confident, powerful force for justice you were born to be.  I am here for it all, with a hug, a reminder to wear your hat when it’s cold, and as the loudest member of your cheering section.

Happy 12^th Birthday to my sweet bear. 

Love,

Mom

To Johan on the Occasion of Your 11th Birthday

To Johan on the Occasion of Your 11^th Birthday:

My beautiful boy, you are a tween.  Tween is that trendy word that gets thrown around to describe people that aren’t little kids and aren’t quite teenagers. I didn’t see the need for the word until you got there.  But you really are in the in-between.

You used to want to snuggle for a long time before sleep; now I sit on the edge of your bed and we talk and have a hug before I turn out the light and wish you sweet dreams.  Then you say “ok, mom, BYE.”

You used to insist on raspberry jam for your bread; now you savor high quality olive oil and cheese.

You used to sit in the back seat and get car sick; now you sit next to me and we turn up the radio and sing along together.  

You used to love Candyland; now you dominate board games with rules more complicated than I’m willing to attempt.

You used to wish plane rides would just hurry up and be over; now you enjoy the energy of getting ready for a morning flight and the people-watching at the airport.

You used to tag along wherever I was going; now we are keeping up with your calendar of sports and student council and school work and friendships.

You used to be bored by all the political news; now you cheer for a Staten Island congressional seat turning blue and for people of color winning seats nationwide and for Senators demanding answers from an unfit Supreme Court nominee.

I know it sometimes feels like I want you to stay little forever.  I do miss being able to scoop you up and kiss your cheeks a thousand times a day.  I loved little boy Johan.  But the in-between you is so extraordinary that I truly wouldn’t change a thing. 

This year you used technology to connect with your abuela in the D.R. and created a beautiful family heritage project.  You excelled in soccer, wowing other teams with your jumps and dives to keep the ball from going in the net.  You are in your final year of elementary school and have been chosen as a leader among your classmates, representing them on student council.  You passionately share issues of social justice with your peers.  Along with a few other children of color, you led your 5^th grade class in a discussion about the experiences of black and brown people with the police. 

This year you boarded a catamaran in the Pacific Ocean and, waves splashing against you, looked out for whales playing in the deep blue.  You navigated the streets of Luquillo, with its roosters and barking dogs, to find beautiful art that now hangs in our home.  In Memphis, you walked in the steps Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to understand the Sanitation Workers’ Strike and you stood where Elvis did in Sun Studios.

It has been a wonderful year, my beautiful boy.   You give me hope for our city, our country, our world. I cannot wait to see what eleven brings.  I love you on big days, and small days, and all the in-betweens.

Happy Palindrome Birthday.

Love, Mom

To Johan on the Occasion of Your 10th Birthday

Johan,

You are turning ten years old.  There are so many milestones of childhood but a whole decade old is a big deal, kiddo. 

10 years ago, I had just become a lawyer.  I was in my mid-20s.  I had just bought our first house.  I had no gray hair.  I had family and friends that I loved, but my main priority was me.

Then you came and everything changed.  Now, the first thing I am is your mom.  Lawyer, wife, daughter, friend, too, but Johan’s mom first.   You are the first person I think of every morning, the last person I think of before I fall asleep.  When you are at school, I wonder what you are doing- if you’re doing experiments with the turquoise stone in Geology or practicing a solo for the school musical.  I know that you are being a kindhearted friend and a hard worker because I hear about that from your teachers and the other adults I have enlisted to spy on you (I kid. They are parent volunteers who just happen to tell me how great you are.)

The last 10 years have brought me so much happiness seeing you grow.  It is so strange to see you do things that I have never done-  You play chess.  You fold origami.  You create obstacle courses.  You do pull-ups on the crown molding.  You are a talented soccer goalie.   You impress me so much and I will always be your loudest cheerleader (even if that is horribly embarrassing.)

I also love when you show interest in things we can tackle together.   You ran for student council this year and I was thrilled to help you with your campaign.  Even though someone else won, your speech writing and public speaking were phenomenal.  Your commitment to your school community is commendable.  As we have been reminded plenty over the last year, the best candidate does not always win.  Keep your passion for public service.  You are a bold and talented leader and any community you are in is better for having you.

This year Andrew adopted you.  And Judge Piper said that better be the only time he sees you in Juvenile Court!  You inquired if it would be ok to go back there if you were a lawyer representing a client.  Of course you asked that.  

Before the adoption, we talked through what it means.  It means more love and more family.  It’s always the math of addition, not subtraction.  Your papa is your papa and nothing can change that.  You are an Alcantara and a Lund, but mostly a Johan, and nothing can change that.   Andrew has been a dad to you for several years and it was great to celebrate it becoming official.  I love the bond you two share- building Legos, discussing superheroes and teasing me when I get “intense,” as you say.   I am happiest when it is the 3 of us, being our goofy little family.

By the time another 10 years passes, you will be 20.   You often ask where I think you will go to college.  The truth is, we can’t know that now and we don’t need to know it now.  The where isn’t the most important part of the path.  The most important part of the path is a lifetime commitment to learning and to making the world better as you go.

I love your love for travel and am proud to have instilled it in you.  A few weeks ago, you told me that you even like waiting at the airports because there are so many people with so many difference stories going so many places.  This year you wrote RESIST on the sand in St. Maarten.  You played at a Parisian playground with French children.  You bonded with a Turkish restraunteur in London over your mutual disdain for ketchup on steak. Wherever you go, you connect with people.  You listen and you share.  Keep being open to truly knowing others.  Our common humanity is so much more powerful than anything that divides us.  You practice this tenet every day and you make me hopeful for the world.

Johan, the last 10 years have been the best decade of my life.  No matter the turns and twists that life has given us, we have faced them with optimism and love.  I am so proud to be your mom and I look forward to all the things every day, every year, every decade with you as my son.

Love,

Mom

To Johan on the Occasion of your 9th Birthday

My Dear Johan:

Now you are 9 years old. Every year at this time, I write you a love letter reflecting on the past 12 months and the ways you have grown. This year I was going to muse about the traveler you have become. About how you played in the big, crashing waves of the Sea of Cortez and ordered all your batidas de chocolate in Spanish. About how you found your magic in the cobbled streets of Harry Potter world. About how you lead the way through the streets of Harlem reciting all the knowledge you had about Frederick Douglass and wondering if he ever spent time in Harlem.

But then this election happened. The morning after it, I walked into your room knowing I was going to have to give you some of the worst news. Knowing it was going to be one of those very hardest parenting moments. I crawled in bed with you and hugged you, kissing your forehead as your eyes fluttered open. "Who won?," you asked. "I'm so sorry to tell you the news, baby, that it didn't go how we wanted." We cried and hugged and you told me you wanted to try saying a swear word. So you did. You took a deep breath and yelled "Damnit!" Damnit, indeed.

I promised you, though, that things will be ok. I've made that promise to you many times during your life and I think I've always kept that promise. But what does being ok mean in this context? It means we have to act boldly and with courage. The only way things will be ok is for us and for every person that believes in equality, in celebrating diversity, in acceptance, and in justice to work every day for those things. We have to march. We have to write. We have to speak our truth to people. We have to look inward and see where our own prejudices lie. We have to learn from those who are different than us so that we can move beyond our prejudices. We have to think. We have to be vocal and unwavering in our commitment to our core values. We must take every opportunity to denounce discrimination and to acknowledge our common humanity. We must do this in our family and in our neighborhood and in our city and in our state and in our country and in the world.

And Johan, you can be a part of this. When you bring a meal to a person who is hungry, you are a part of this. When you invite the new kid to sit with you at lunch, you are a part of this. When you ask to donate some of your money to a worthy cause, you are a part of this. When you stand up for someone who is being bullied, you are a part of this. When you smile at someone who looks different than you do, you are a part of this. When you listen to and learn from someone who has had different life experiences than you have, you are a part of this.

President Obama was elected when you were less than a year old. I remember nursing you as MSNBC made the call and I looked down at your little brown face with tears streaming down mine. You would know a world where a Black man was the most powerful man in the world. A man who campaigned on hope and was committed to equality. He would inspire us. And he did. The world is better now than in the time before Obama was elected.

So now we have to figure out how to make it better still. We will likely get less guidance from the incoming President than we got from this one. If the new President takes action to undermine the rights of brown and black people, of gays, of women, of transgender people, of Muslims, of Jews, of disabled people, or of any other group of people he has threatened, we will say NO. We will stand with these groups and we will acknowledge our common humanity. The road may be long and it may be bumpy. But, Johan, we will work on it together and with millions of others who agree. You will be guided by your kind, open heart to do what is right. You will be guided by hope, because hope is not something we get from a President or from any one person. It comes from within- from a moral compass that guides us to never stop being a voice for the voiceless.

You were an amazing 8 year old. And you're going to be an even better 9 year old. Together with our family and our community, we will rise to the challenge by raising our fists in solidarity with the oppressed and by raising our voices to call for love and equality every day of our lives. I'm so inspired to make this journey with you. Rise up, kid. El pueblo unido jamas sera vencido.

Love, Mom.

To Johan on the Occasion of Your Eighth Birthday

Dear Johan:

On November 15, 2015, you will be 8 years old!  Eight!  There is something about eight that is very special- and it’s more than the fact it rhymes with GREAT. As you grow, it is extraordinary to see your independence and confidence bloom.  I love to see you form relationships, opinions, and a world view.  It was a wonderful adventure to be you mom during age seven and we are ready to take on eight!

We celebrated your seventh birthday with a trip to Disney World with Kitties Grandma and Grandpa.  We ate calamari on Thanksgiving and started every morning with waffles in the shape of Mickey Mouse.  We raced down waterslides and rode Pirates of the Caribbean over and over.  I hoisted all sixty pounds of you up onto my shoulders so you could see the parade.  And it was okay that you dropped cotton candy in my hair.  We watched fireworks over the iconic castle and felt raindrops on our faces.  As is prone to happen in Florida, those rain drops soon were a torrential downpour.  So we stood in the rain and watched the water play with the colors of the fireworks.  We held hands and laughed at our soaking wet selves.  Even surrounded by thousands of people clamoring for space under an awning, we knew that we were the only ones there;  just our family laughing in the rain.  These are the moments of travel that I cherish the most.  There are no pictures of us drenched under a brilliantly lit up rainy Orlando night but I can feel your little hand in mine and I can hear the squish of our shoes and my heart is happy.

In January, you were chosen for a part in Kenwood School’s Martin Luther King, Jr. celebration.  You were so excited to participate in honoring one of your heroes.  You bit your lip before they handed you the microphone to recite your part.  When it was your turn to talk, you spoke clearly and confidently: “I have a dream.”  Then you set the microphone down and crossed one arm over the other, joining hands with your classmates and sang “We Shall Overcome.”  It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. 

A couple weeks later, your littlest brother-from-another-mother was born in Flagstaff, Arizona.  You and I took a mother/son trip to Arizona to get to know little Caleb.  We flew to Phoenix and rented a car to drive to Flagstaff.  You and I are not used to mountain driving, but with each other’s company and the stark, eerily gorgeous red rocks and mountains surrounding us, we made our way to Sarah, Charlie, and Caleb.  As you held Caleb on your lap, you showed such incredible gentleness with him.   You stroked his cheek and smiled at him and fed him a bottle.  You talked to him and he was calm and happy sitting with you.  Even though we live far away from them, I hope that you and Caleb will have the kind of relationship that we have always had with Sarah.  Miles and months can pass, but when we are together, all is just as it should be.  Even when you were a baby, you seemed to remember Sarah from visit to visit and there was a closeness that permeated time and space.   Caleb has brought even more love to the mix and I look forward to seeing the two of you form your own connection.

Summer brought more changes to our family.  Dad left Comcast after several years to start his own business. This gave him more flexibility in his schedule and meant that you mostly got to stay home this summer. As a self-declared “homebody,” you were thrilled with this.   Of course, you also spent your summer days on little adventures with your Grandmas and Grandpas and attending baseball and theater camps.   You played baseball for the Kenwood Purple Dragons and you thought of the team name!  It is such a joy to sit in the sweet springtime grass sipping a warm coffee and watching you play baseball.  There is no way I’d rather spend a Saturday morning.  One day, you made an awesome catch in the outfield that you even surprised yourself.  Your eyes got so big as you realized the ball was in your glove.  Everyone cheered.  You later told me you were sure that Uncle David must have given you a boost.  Your honest and loving way of processing death and loss are beyond words.  You speak of David sometimes and I know you think of him frequently.   We point out food he would enjoy and we make jokes in his silly voices.  You ask to hear stories about times we spent with him. Your favorite story of Uncle David is when we stood outside the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport on a snowy night waiting for a ride and David sang "Hey Jude" at the top of his lungs.   And you love it when I remind you that you were there too, singing right along with him.

Your moment in the spotlight for MLKJ day peaked your interest in performing and you spent time this summer at Children’s Theater in a performing camp.  You also decided you wanted to try modelling, which resulted in you being hired twice (so far!) by Target.   That’s your animated and beautiful face on page 40 of the Target Holiday Catalogue 2015!  Your job was to play with Elves Legos as part of their new gender-neutral toy advertising approach.   You love Legos but told us that you would have preferred Star Wars Legos.  I pointed out to you that there are certainly both boys and girls that prefer Star Wars and also both boys and girls that prefer to play with the Elves.  I explained that sometimes the way toys are advertised makes it seem like something is just for boys or just for girls.  And if there is a little boy out there who wants to play with Elves Legos, maybe seeing a cool kid like you enjoying them will give him the boost of confidence he needs to just be himself.   You stood up a little taller at that thought and said “Well, that is something worth doing!”  You are so right, Johan.  Putting more kindness and acceptance into the world is always something worth doing and you have a wonderful way of doing it.

This fall you chose to begin guitar lessons when Bergen Grandpa talked with you about the things playing an instrument can do for your brain.  You play a wooden half-size acoustic guitar that fits your fingers perfectly.  My favorite instrument to hear is the acoustic guitar and hearing you play brings me great joy.  I hope that you continue to enjoy playing. Music can be so therapeutic both for the artist and the listener.  Your hands and brain working together to make beautiful music is something I hope you will love for your whole life.

You decided to re-start Spanish classes this year.  You told us it was mostly because Dad said you’ll need a second language for college so you might as well start now.   Between your papa moving back to the Dominican Republic and then a difficult experience at the Spanish immersion school, you had developed some sad associations with Spanish.  I am so proud of the way you have worked through those.   You took the time to think and feel your way to a place where you know that Spanish is beautiful and that communicating in various languages is such a fulfilling experience. And that Spanish is part of you.  You are part of a rich and beautiful Dominican culture and the Spanish language is integral to that.  You should always be proud of the varied fabrics that make up your heritage.  

The part that surprised you about this experience is that a lot of Spanish is already in that big head of yours.  It has been extraordinary to see those parts of your brain wake up again.  The Spanish teachers were shocked by the smooth roll of the R off your tongue and the fluid way you are able to put together sentences.   Plus, as a lover of Spanish, it’s fun for me to be able to work with you on increasing your fluency.  Now we just have to teach Dad!

Johan, age seven has been an absolute blast.  You are my big kid and I love to spend time with you.  I love when we kick back on the couch and watch Napoleon Dynamite and say the lines in time with the characters.  "Eat your food, Tina!"  I love walking around our neighborhood with you while you tell knock-knock jokes. I love when we play board games and listen to Disney radio on Pandora and you try to skip the love songs but you always let me listen to the ones from “Tangled” because you know that's my favorite.  I love when we cook together and you provide a new way to think about an old recipe. 

And that is the amazing gift you give to us every day, Johan.  You provide a new way to think about everything.  Every color is brighter; every sound is sweeter; every experience is richer with you.  I always call you “my little bear” and of course that’s true.  But you don’t really belong to me.  You belong to the world and it is my great privilege to get to walk with you as you discover that world.

Happy Birthday to you, my little bear.  I love you more than fireworks in the night sky and more than the and more than spring grass and sunshine.

Love, Mom

To Johan on the Occasion of Your 7th Birthday

Dear Johan:

Seven years old! There is no denying that you are a big kid now. You stand tall at 50 inches (and even taller with your new faux-hawk). You never cease to amaze me with your bright toof-less grin, your quirky sense of humor, and the love and empathy I see pour out of you every day. I often ask you at bed time what I did to deserve such a wonderful son. You always answer that we were meant to be. When we have bad days, we remind each other that some days are diamonds and some days are stones. But for me, every day I’m your mama is better than diamonds. This year saw lots of changes for us. Some were wonderful. Some broke our hearts. Through everything you have shown amazing grace.

We planned a wedding together – you, me and Dad. We chose chocolate cake and you wore a fancy vest and dancing shoes. We stood in front of our friends and family in a circle and promised to love each other and treat each other with respect and always listen to each other and always do our best for each other.   All 3 of us exchanged rings – although yours is currently missing somewhere on the living room/dance floor! Our family and friends celebrated with us as we made the family that is just right for us with Andrew. You had the best dance moves on the floor- even catching the attention of our friend and one of your favorite artists, Doomtree Collective member Dessa. Your confidence when you are dancing or telling jokes is so fun to watch. I love to look at your face as you check for your audience’s reaction.

When we sit down at dinner and hold hands to say grace, I think of the circle that we made holding hands at the wedding. Every day when we talk about our days and when we read aloud after dinner and when we collect rocks at the park and when we snuggle up with a movie and popcorn, we are keeping our promise to one another. And I promise you this, Johan, you are loved beyond measure and you always will be. This is our forever.

As we were settling into summer, still riding high on our wedding celebration, your Uncle David died. He struggled with addiction for a long time, and we had talked about how sick it can make people. None of us expected him to be gone, though.  I can’t remember ever feeling as much pain as I have this year and I am 33 years old. You were only 6. You and David had a cosmic connection- your love for one another was pure and good. I see so much of his sense of humor in you. It was hard for me to explain this horrible loss to you. When an old person dies, grown-ups can explain to kids the cycle of life. It doesn’t quite work that way when you have to say goodbye to a 27 year old. We have been grieving this year and I am so proud of the emotional maturity you have shown. The day we found out he died, I stepped out of the car and fell to my knees crying. You rushed to me and we sat in the driveway for a long time hugging. You were a six year old that understood that families take care of one another; that sometimes adults don’t feel strong and that you have the ability to comfort someone else, even when you are also sad. At Uncle David’s funeral, you saw your grandpa break down in tears during a beautiful, sad song. Without prompting or hesitation, you slipped out of the pew and crawled into Grandpa’s lap and held him close, stroking his hair. You were the ray of sunshine for the whole Lund family as we grieved. You showed us that there is no shame or need for apology when we cry. There is only need for hugging.

You asked me soon after David died what he would eat in heaven because Uncle David loves to eat. I thought for minute and I said that my Grandpa and Grandma were there waiting for him and they would make sure he always had plenty of frozen pepperoni pizza and peach sauce. They would play cards and listen to Perry Como sing Christmas songs and have banana popsicles. Your question helped me so much, Johan. It helped me know that David was ok and that my Grandma and Grandpa were there to take care of him, because that’s what families do. Since the funeral, you have helped keep David’s memory alive. We tell stories about how David would let Bergie lick his teeth. We sing the Lobster Shanty song and laugh about how David loved the Lobster Shanty so much that he was going to marry it. We know it’s ok to miss him and to cry sometimes. We try to be gentle with one another and to remember how lucky we are to have each other.

You started first grade at Kenwood School this year. Each morning you jump out of bed ready to tackle the day. You insist that we leave the house promptly at 7am so you can be first in line at the bus stop. You are a superstar reader and mathematician. I love being in the car with you or walking down the street, and all of a sudden you can read a sign that you could not just the week before! You are beginning to understand how reading opens up a whole new world to you. You are learning to play the piano. You create gorgeous paintings of fall leaves. You are getting the hang of using a computer mouse. You love dodgeball. You like to “wing it” on sharing days when you take the microphone and explain one of your treasures to your classmates. You are learning African drumming with Brother Ghana. You are learning about art history. Your teacher told me that while other kids could talk about colors or shapes in the art work, you pointed out how the lines showed the intricate life cycle of a butterfly and how the color contributes to the story of  the metamorphosis. In. Those. Words. Each day when I get home from work, I can’t wait to see and hear what you’ve learned- a new dance, a new chord, a new word, a new concept.

 You have made good friends who understand you. When Jasper came over for a play date, he brought you a picture of him eating a taco with ham and raisins in it. You both rolled on the floor laughing at this. It made my heart soar.  Keep friends like that to you close.

You became a swimming fish this summer. You spent so much time in the water. Now you can jump off the high dive and get yourself to the edge. You can swim across the pool in the deep end. You can dive for coins and rings and you have almost got a summersault mastered. You started karate in January and you have shown great commitment. You have earned 5 different belts this year and have now moved up to the big kids class. Karate has changed you: physically your balance and strength have improved. Your push-ups are now actual push-ups rather than your version of “the worm.” You have also shown commitment to the principles of your karate school- “might for right!” You practice karate with commitment. You also demonstrate maturity by not using karate outside of the studio. The look I see in your narrowed, focused eyes when learning a new kick or stance in karate is powerful. That determination will take you wherever you decide to go. I won’t always be able to just stand behind the glass partition with my coffee in hand smiling as you take on new challenges. But I know that you will always have that same determined look in your big brown eyes. That, together with your wise brain and your good heart, will serve you well.

Johan, this year has had more ups and downs than some grownups can handle. Yet, you, a 6 year old, have handled everything beautifully and still remained a spunky, goofy kiddo with a sparkle in your eye. I am so glad I get to be with you on this journey. I am so proud I am your mama. I am so proud of the person you are. You like to ask about my favorites a lot and sometimes I don’t know. Who is my favorite super hero? Uhmmm…Spider Man, I guess. What is my favorite color? I suppose turquoise. But when you ask who my favorite person in the whole wide world is? That one is easy. It’s you, Johan. Always has been. Always will be. I love you to Jupiter and to the next galaxy where the stars get stuck. Happy Birthday to you, bear.

Love,
Mom

To Johan on the Occasion of your Sixth Birthday

Dear Johan:

Tomorrow you will be 6 years old. When I think back to when you turned 5, it’s astonishing all of the change and growth that happened in the past year. For us as a family, we sold the house where you were born. We moved to a new house in a new neighborhood. You graduated from Montessori school. You started Kindergarten. You are now counting in Spanish and sometimes peppering Spanish words in your talk without realizing. You know the sounds letters make and you’re learning to put them together to form words. I love experiencing the sparks as they go off in your brain as your mind makes new connections.

You love to create things out of Legos and give them futuristic names like X-4195. You help take care of the dog and you help take care of our new home. You are a burgeoning chef and we listen to music while we cook. Sometimes we take a break to dance. Your first best friend moved away to New York. You miss him and you Skype with him but you also have made new friends in our neighborhood and at school. You wear Crocs whenever possible and you still love to play dress up. You lead us in grace at dinner time. You love to snuggle with Andrew while I read aloud to you after dinner. You love to make people laugh and you have a wry and delectable sense of humor. You are brave on the zip line at the park and you can climb to the top of the jungle gym. Andrew is teaching you to play guitar and you got a blister on your thumb from strumming so fervently. I hope that you always strum with purpose and passion.

We travelled a lot this year. At Christmas, you splashed in the waves at Vero Beach and ate fish while smelling the salty air. In the Spring, you wore jammies on the overnight flight to Amsterdam and then walked miles with us to the Anne Frank house. We drank hot chocolate in line and then you had your first lesson on World War II and the evil and the good in people. We celebrated Queen’s Day and you wore an orange crown and we rode a boat through the canals, cheering. We toured the Opera House in Budapest and saw a Hungarian horse show. We went to the thermal baths of Budapest and then ate langos with sour cream. We rode a boat down the Danube and you made friends with a South African boy in Hungary. We spent the last weekend of the summer in Wisconsin on the banks of the St. Croix. You wore a fedora and a turquoise bowtie and scattered flower petals for Sarah before she walked down the aisle. You entertained many east coast intellectuals with your hot dance moves and advanced vocabulary. In the fall, we drove to the North Shore of Lake Superior and collected rocks and leaves and played many hours of ping pong and air hockey. You are an amazing adventurer and one of my greatest joys is exploring the world hand in hand with you.

You are interested in the interplay between religion and science. Andrew’s parents gave you a small cross and you call it a “wishing cross” and you keep it in a box and wish upon it. Sometimes at dinner grace, you say you are “thankful for God” but if I ask you what that means, you won’t tell. We talk about how people believe in different things and nobody’s right or wrong. But then you pointed out that some kids in your class might need to study science because they think Jesus created people but you are sure it’s really science.


You march to your own drum. One day you wanted silver sparkles on your fingernails like superheroes have and so we got you just that. Some kids at school teased you. But you liked the way you look and would not be deterred. You wore your silver sparkles on your nails until they chipped off. I told you how proud I was of you that you know yourself so well and are so confident in yourself. Hang on tight to that, Johan. Never let anyone tell you that you are less because of how you look, what you wear, what you believe, or who you love.

You love pillow talk. We have some of our best conversations when we lay down right before you go to sleep. It’s then that you will tell me about your day in detail- the good, the bad, the funny, and everything in between. You share with me your desires and your fears and worries. We talk through it all as your head nestles into the crook of my arm. Sometimes you tickle my chin and I always kiss your forehead. We still sing together, usually 3 songs a night, and I always end with “You Are my Sunshine.” If I try to jazz up the songs, you tell me to just do it the regular way. You often hum along. One night you said you didn’t need me to snuggle you before bed. And I asked why not. You said that a boy in your class told you that big boys don’t need to be snuggled to sleep. I asked you if you believe that. You said “Well, I want you to snuggle me but he said so.” I told you that every family is different and that it was none of his business what we do and that my mom snuggled me and sang to me until I was like 12. And you said, “ok, then come on and snuggle me.” And I did. And I sang to you. And you hugged me extra close that night.

You discovered Harry Potter this year. You believe in magic. You love magic. You are magic. When you use a chopstick for a magic wand to cast a spell, your eyes glimmer with all the hope and promise in the world. I wish for you to always see the magic in the world around you-- in sunrises and sunsets, in leaves as they blow through the air, in a strong bear hug, in a good belly laugh.

Every day I am proud of the person you are. You are kind and gentle and empathetic and determined and opinionated and confident and affectionate and goofy and serious and smart and so full of wonder. Every day I am glad to be your mom. It’s my favorite thing to be and you are the most extraordinary perfect-for-our-family kid that we could ever imagine. I love you with all of my heart from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I can’t wait for everything that comes next.

Happy Birthday, my sweet Chinook.

Love, Mama

PS. I’ll never tell you if I’m a spy or a Muggle or both.