Special Friends

Dear All

Firstly, thank you. I acknowledge that many of you are self-made. I stand at the side-lines watching you grow and then get all the credit, which must be irritating. My interfering is one of the reasons we fight so much. That said, a number of you are clumsy, a few of you are infuriating and several of you will never work. But I want you to know I take responsibility for your weaknesses as much as I celebrate your strengths. I regard you all as more than friends, as family.  Despite our struggles you are all special to me. You have given me purpose and for that I am extraordinarily grateful.

  Secondly, I apologise. I’m sorry I haven’t given you wider lives, and you are right to feel confined and constricted. I should have tried harder on your behalves, found you homes, been more proactive and pushy and just pushed you out. Blame it on laziness and fear.
  A few of you, at least, have made it out into the world. I trust those of you who have flown the nest are more fulfilled than your less successful siblings. I hope you are appreciated and listened to.
  I’d like to say to those of you still imprisoned, this has no bearing on what you mean to me and how I value you. As you are still in my care, I worry about you more, for better or worse, you are still my responsibility.

  I confess there are more of you than I can count and I’m embarrassed that I can’t always recall the oldest of you, but when I see you, of course I remember.
Whether you’re seventeen syllables or 80,000 words, you’re all my children. And whether you’re in the local paper, blog or just on a memory stick or scrap of paper, I appreciate what you’ve given me. Maybe when I’m old and embrace the grey I’ll break my own rule and self-publish. Because although my reason is to write, I recognise that your reason is to be read.

Yours, as always,
Kath