Dear Malcolm,

23May08

Your mommy wrote a beautiful letter today.  A beautiful letter about a visit to a Warner Center Park in Woodland Hills. 

It hurt me to read your mother’s words.  It hurt me because I don’t want to believe that the prejudices we faced as youngsters bleeds onto your childhood.  It hurts me because I can remember the scorn that’s associated with being chastised from other kids, other parents. 

You are so loved.  You are loved by so many people and your personality is a reflection of that fact.  It’s like the love from all your aunties and uncles has turned into your happy, warm, and friendly personality.  I’ve seen you walk up to kids with the bigget smile on your face.  No fear.  While other kids, who already seem to know to hesitate at the sight of a new kid, you are still ignorant of that feeling.

One day, when you are standing on the tops of mountains, I hope you still feel our love.  I hope your warmth, your life, isn’t scorned by trouble.  While I know that is a cavernous leap of faith, I still will make it.  Your smile.  Your laughter. Your cries. And Your whines.  I can’t wait to meet you when you grow up.  You are guaranteed to be one impressive dude.  Especially with the amazing parents you have.

All my love,

Tita L

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