Dear Juliette,
Two and a half years is a long time between last writing on here, and now. I think I became scared – or nervous – about what would come out when I really thought about what was in my head. The result of course, was erring on the side of nothing instead of letting it all out.
You’re seven now, and eight in March, so as much as I wish I could go back and write in the past, all I can do is write from now on. I’ll hazard a guess though; a lot of posts will be about days gone by anyway.
You stayed an extra night the weekend just gone, which was great. I made you lunch and took you to school and even got there early. It was casual day, so you were wearing a long-sleeved green top and a pretty frilly green skirt. I found a dollar for you to give the teacher as a donation, kissed you goodbye and left.
You don’t have much time remaining at your school. Next year you’ll be moving to the school right near Mum’s new house which will be great for you. No more bus rides and being the last passenger to get off. Your friends will all be local too, which is another bonus. Hopefully you continue to thrive and strive as much as you do now.
You watched Bee Movie again. That movie must be rivaling Elmo in Grouchland for your most watched movie ever. Of course, I don’t really know what you watch at home, but those two would be close to the top of the list. It seems like eons ago that you used to love watching Bob the Builder, and then Dora. When we lived together, I used to have the Bob the Builder episodes on the XBOX, so I would fire it up and play them for you. I remember some times when you were apparently sleeping, I would turn it on again to watch one of my own shows, but the sound of the old classic XBOX firing up was enough for you to start yelling “BOB!” from your cot.
I am in love with watching you grow up. You are maturing in your tastes, and the way you look at the world is changing each time I see you. The TV shows you watch and the clothes you wear are the tangibles, but just looking in to your eyes I can tell.
And you have so much love to give. You are so thoughtful, and despite being a “spoiled brat” at times, you have a massive heart. I have been surprised numerous times in the past at how you have dealt with situations. When Jessie died around four and a half years ago, I didn’t want to tell you. Partly because I didn’t want you to be sad, but also partly because I would cry just saying the words.
Eventually I did. I sat you down and told you what happened. Sure enough, my voice cracked and a tear ran down my cheek. Rather than start crying yourself, or say that you missed her, you just looked at me and said “Don’t worry Daddy. We will get a new doggy and you can call her Jessie and then you can be happy again”. You were only three years old but had enough thought and compassion to realise how sad I was, and choose to do something about it.
That really amazed me, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
Love,
Dad