Dear Body,
I want to write you a love letter, but I know what you need first is an apology or my compliments will sound shallow and empty. So, there we are. I’m not good at saying it, but I really am sorry.
I’m sorry for failing to recognize everything you have done for me while I abused you. You have provided me with so much support and so many opportunities: all of the times you carried me everywhere I needed to go; all of the times you let me open my mouth and make music; all of the times you healed when something went horribly (or even just a little) wrong; all of the change you tolerated to carry twins to term; all of the energy you used to run and run and run; all of the hiking, backpacking, canoeing, kayaking, walking, dancing, acting, playing in the snow; all of the baby carrying, baby bouncing, stroller pushing, rocking; all of the exploring in California, Florida, Italy, North Carolina, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Montreal, Algonquin, the Adirondacks, Chautauqua, NYC, Long Island, Washington DC, Seattle, Vancouver, London, Martinique; all of the writing of songs and typing of essays; all of the guitar and piano playing; all of the bread making, cookie baking, stirring, mixing, cutting, chopping; all of the hugging, caressing, comforting, holding, loving. You have been there for all of it, doing your best.
Love Always,
julia
