Roots and wings: letter to my first daughter

Pellizca aquí para leer en español.

Dear soon-to-be-born daughter,

I know I should probably start this letter off in a sophisticated and serious way (so when you eventually read it you don't think your mom was a total airhead) but...OMG OMG you'll be here so soon!

I can't wait to show you all the beauty of this planet you're about to be born into: the seas and oceans (especially those in my country), the mountains (especially those in your father's country) and, above all, the friends and family that anxiously await your arrival, ready to fill your life with love and candy. I'll try to limit the latter because today's science says that sugar affects brain development, but by the time you're old, who knows what things will be like. We'll probably all have computers for brains and you'll decide to marry a robot, which I'll completely accept. I'll love him/her as my own son/daughter. Promise.

I admit I've spent so much time the past 9 months trying to figure out what type of mom I want to be and making mental lists of everything I want to teach you. After so much writing, rewriting, twisting and turning it became super clear to me that I want to give you the same gift your grandmother gave me: roots and wings.

My dearest daughter, I promise to give you long, strong roots to keep you grounded even through the worst storms (because, as you'll soon realize, nobody can escape those). I promise to give you the roots of a robust ceiba (I'll show you this majestic tree when we travel to Puerto Rico) that might lose its leaves and stems on account of strong winds but never ever its trunk, never its soul.

At the same time, I promise to give you wings so you can see the world, even if those wings eventually take you far away from me. I'll give you wings so you can always keep a free, empathetic and open perspective. So you can fly high or low, however you choose, but never lose your sense of adventure and curiosity, so you can always have the ability to put yourself in the shoes of others. 

Roots and wings, my little one. These two things I promise you and so much more. LOVE, tickles, smiles, games, chocolates... I'll try to make you fall in love with literature and your dad with skiing. We'll give you the gift of language: English, Spanish, German (and everything in between). I'll try to make you feel very Puerto Rican and your dad will try to make you feel Austrian (in the end you'll be your own magical identity without national boundaries). I promise to listen more than speak, to be patient and to be there for you always always always, even when you turn 13 and suddenly decide to hate me for no reason.

OK enough with the deep thoughts. Enjoy your last moments inside my belly and give my bladder some goodbye kicks (I know how much you love doing that). :)

Love you to the moon and back and back forever,

Rita (your mom)

p.s. OMG OMG you'll be here so soon!