Dear Baby Rosenfeld

For you I pray.  You haven’t appeared in this world yet, though you are dearly missed in our arms.  I can’t imagine what it will be like- to face this much love as you enter this world, but I promise you, we’ll keep it up.  You have been loved for years, though your parents have only been married one.  You are loved, and you are going to be loved, but that does not mean we will make your life easy.  This I can promise you too:

  • You will get a nick name.  You will have no choice in said nick name.  We will call you by it in the most embarrassing public situation possible.  We love you.
  • Stories from your childhood, from before you acquired complex critical thinking skills will be retold.  Often.  To prospective sexual partners. We love you.
  • We will not like your first five boy/girlfriends.  This will have nothing to do with your gender, orientation, or them.  This is to teach you to defend your choices, and to choose better.  We love you.
  • There will be yelling.  At the table.  For no reason.  You will not be allowed to crawl under said table.  You will learn to yell back.  We are loud people.  We love you.
  • Your mother will insist on using a coupon.  She will dump the all contents of her suitcase sized purse onto the table looking for this coupon while the waiter impatiently waits.  This is a family tradition.  We love you.
  • There will be 35 people at your high school graduation.  We will force you to trade favors for tickets.  We will shamelessly bawl the whole time.  We love you.
  • You will mention once a preference for a candy/animal/artist/subject.  We will purchase said item 10,000 times for the collection you never meant to have.  We love you.
  • We will build traditions around you.  Stand in support for the little things.  Celebrate the big things.  Give you your first drink.  Take you camping, to DisneyLand, to summer camp, to Oregon and Washington and London.  We will call to check up on your maths tests, and let your best friend come on family vacation, and dance at midnight before letting you play hooky from school.  You will love us.

And I can’t wait.

XOXO Aunt Sarah Mae


I’ve committed to writing 30 letters in 30 days, according to the 30 Day Letter Challenge.  To learn more about my project, check out my introduction.

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Dear Arizona Mom

Arizona Mom, Bethany Grace, Fairy God Mother, c.2008, Las Vegas

There’s a million things you’ve missed already.  A million and one.  And when I think about it, it makes me want to cry, and it makes my heart break, and it makes me smile, because you got to be there for two million and two things.

When friends lose someone, I try to be patient, because I remember.  I remember drinking the God-awful sicky sweet alcohol out of a plastic pineapple in the airport bar in O’ahu as my plane was delayed and delayed and delayed again.  I didn’t know what else to do, and you were the only one I could think of to call.  That was four years ago.  And sometimes you’re still the only one I can think to call.  And you number is still in my phone- though I’m sure someone else uses it now.

If wishes were fishes the whole world would be fed.

But that doesn’t stop me wishing.

Wishing you were here.  That you had been the one crying at Bethy’s wedding instead of me.  That you had met, and approved the marvelous man she married.  That you got to meet the one I’m seeing now.  That  you could revel in our successes, and failures with us still.  That you embarrassed us still in restaurants and begged for more visits with your children and grandchildren.

My faith say’s this is just a temporary thing- that you are there watching over us, giving us what we need to make it through day after day of life without you.  And so I want to be confident that you still see.

You will see us laugh as we take our seats in restaurants, or pull coupons from our ginormous purses.  You will see us with our lipstick for the mail box (okay, more Bethy than me, but I do rock a pick lip for work most days!).  You will see us teach our daughters how to sit in Easter dresses, and how to rock pantyhose on their heads in a grocery store, if that’s what they want to do.  You will see us sing the little birdie song to wake sleeping children.  We will bake biscuits for Christmas cookies, buy a million coloured fingernail polishes, drive around looking for the perfect Christmas tree.  We will rush our children and husbands while we’re not ready.  We will live exclusivly out of the Costco freezer case at some point, and allow each child to choose a frozen treat from there to keep on hand at all times.  We will insist on hydration and sunscreen.  We will listen to our bodies and make the doctors listen too.  We will fight anyone who thinks our kids aren’t good enough. We will make friends who become family.  We will follow our passions to help people.

And we will love.

Because you taught us to.  Until heaven-

All my love, your Sarah Mae


I’ve committed to writing 30 letters in 30 days, according to the 30 Day Letter Challenge.  To learn more about my project, check out my introduction.

Dear Dreams of Mine

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I want you to know that I haven’t abandoned you.  Some of  you have changed, and some of you have been put away.  Some have been achieved and filed as successes, or failed in glorious attempts.  But all of you were important once, and will always be a part of me, like old friends lost to time.

Some of you I hold dear still, check in with, think about when work is slow and the rain comes down, and my soup is perfect.  I haven’t let you go, I haven’t abandoned you, I have prioritized you- balanced the past and the present and the future with the reality of adulthood and obligations, and the fact that money doesnt grow on trees.  Some of you I’ve bent and reshaped  until you don’t recognize yourself, but I still see you I still love you I still dream of you.

And some of you are new, shiny and bright and stirring trouble with the others, and that’s okay too.  You will join them and together you will propel me forward in my life- in this life filled with all the things that can drag a girl down, into the mundane task of living.  And so, when you look at you, remember to smile, remember to glean, remember that you are as important to me as I am to you.

And once in a while, when one of you comes true- remind me to rejoice in you.  For we are old friends, and we have done great things, and that, is what matters.

XOXO Sarah Mae


I’ve committed to writing 30 letters in 30 days, according to the 30 Day Letter Challenge.  To learn more about my project, check out my introduction.