Dear Mom,

I want to tell you about the year 2020 from my eyes. I was young, and don't remember much.

I heard the world stopped, but our world was always moving fast.

I remember we spent a lot of time outside. You taught us hopscotch, and we collected rocks for our rock garden and played hide 'n seek. We used our scooters and looked for our neighbors’ dogs to say "hi'.

…but I don’t remember the size of your body.

I remember when it rained, we made blanket forts, and our imaginations changed the space from moment to moment. We were the masters of our tiny universe, and you were our fearless leader.

…but I don’t remember the size of your body.

I remember seeing people with masks on when we left the house, but you told us we were superheroes because we were protecting other people from getting sick-- and I now see how we really were…

…but I don’t remember the size of your body.

I remember you always being busy, whether it was homeschooling, making meals, cleaning, or playing with us. I don’t remember you ever sitting down. I do remember catching you with tears in your eyes a couple of times, but you said, "sometimes we just need to cry and let it out, but mommy is okay," and then the moment would pass and we'd all be smiling, laughing, and playing again.

We had a lot of tears that year.

…but I don’t remember the size of your body.

I remember you saying kind words to yourself and others.

It was a time I remember fondly—a time where we learned a lot.

And I never noticed when you gained or lost weight or what you looked like exactly. All I remember is how you felt when I hugged you, and it felt like a comfortable blanket because you're my home.

Love,

Your child

This post originally appeared on the author's Facebook. Her book Living FULL: Winning My Battle with Eating Disorder is available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2O4mJId