A Not So Private Letter to my Father + On getting older

Grandpa and baby.

I wrote this not so private letter to my dad in 2012 after graduating from Cal, and while living in the Bay Area. I never sent it to him, for fear that my processes and investigation of self-worth would be misinterpreted and hurtful to him. I don't have that fear anymore because my dad's a man of faith and love, and he knows that I am a little unorthodox and unicorn-like. 

In 2012, my husband and I were dating and obsessed with travel, food, and peter-panning our lives. Not taking things too seriously. Now we're married, have a home, bills, and a son who just turned 1. I am older and with my own collection of grey hairs. This lock down time has me revisiting my old writings, and last night I logged back into my @hitrecord account to see what it has produced in my absence. Some collaborative artists have re-mixed my writings and photographs into some fun inventive pieces of art. I was moved by the essence infection - which is how I can best describe a platform like @hitrecord. 

However, this letter was in the collection of pieces untouched and un-remixed. It's a stand alone letter that currently just floats there. It desperately needed editing, as my ESL traumas were super evident. I made adjustments last night, just to clarify what my brain was trying to process then, without changing its message. And in doing so, I began to think about how these old feelings have shifted in the NOW. * Now I am a mom. Now, almost 8 years later - I question my initial inquiry about gender specific practices and biases; things that I may be holding onto. Blaming the patriarchy and yet also using patriarchal language to express myself? What a conundrum. We human beings are fascinating. 

Screenshot of my 2012 letter on Hitrecord.org. To read entire letter, go to link below.

Now, my dad and baby talk and play. I observe them. There's a part of me that wants to know the secret(s) of male interaction. Is there is something I missed out on because I was born a girl? Amos makes fun of me at times when I question male interactions, and says "You just don't get it." As a writer who likes to investigate the human condition, this comment drives me up the wall. I am too curious, but I have learned the best way to understand is to observe.

So far, all I have been able to notice is love. I am also remembering how loved I was. That doesn't mean that I am disengaging with my 2012 feelings completely. I have also observed my father teaching baby Afro-Peruvian rhythms that he himself learned when he toured with a band in his early 20s. On baby's first birthday photoshoot (don't judge me) he handed him my guitar to play with. I don't ever remember being handed a guitar, and that's where my questions come from, I suppose. Did I miss out on the cool stuff because I was born a girl? This is where I laugh out loud. 

Thoughts and processes. When it comes down to it, I only know this to be true: my father and my son's love for each other warms my heart and makes me smile. It may be a little different than my relationship with my dad, but it should be different. It should morph and grow as I hope my father does in his own way, the way I do in my own way. We're all growing and morphing. So even though I drown myself in these inquiries about gender biases and what we carry...there are moments...sweet moments in life when it's really beautiful to let go. Let go by remembering and not holding onto it too much. I read the things of the past, remember them, honor them, and say thank you to my past self for having the bravery to process the thoughts in writing when it couldn't be said out loud. Thank you past self for using humor. I love humor. I love you. 

It's interesting to revisit past writings. It's interesting to find places in me that have grown up, while simultaneously finding other places in me that still have a way to go. For now, I'll flow with family, while gender takes a backseat. Witnessing love takes precedence any day. 

To read the entire 2012 letter go to: hitrecord.org/records/918597.

Peace/Paz everyone.