My dear child,

As usual, fall is speeding by. You’re in that transitional age where you aren’t quite sure what you want to do for Halloween. You’re vaccinated, so that opens up the options somewhat, but it doesn’t help you make a decision. You might want to go trick-or-treating one last time, or there’s also a school party, or you may just want to hang out with friends, or maybe nothing at all. You haven’t chosen a costume, so if you want help with one, we need to get on that. I put a ton of work into your costume last year, so I’m pushing for you to reuse that one, but we’ll see what happens.

You seem to have developed a strong friend group. I think your friends are encouraging you to push some boundaries in terms of your personal identity, which is normal and natural at your age. I remember trying to sort myself out and figure out who I wanted to be when I was in that life stage. It’s required some adjustments here in our family as you try out different elements of identity. You feel impatient with us when it’s hard to keep up. While I don’t know yet what your future holds, I’m certain of one thing: your dad and I will always, one hundred percent love and support you. I think you know that, and that’s why you’ve felt comfortable telling us about the various thoughts you’re having about your life. The details are yours to share, not mine, but always know that I have your back.

We know the family of one of your good friends pretty well, and I’ve talked to his dad about some of the challenges that come with raising our kids right now. There’s something of a generational gap, which I guess happens with every generation. I think about what a shock it probably was to my grandparents’ generation when so many of their children turned their backs on the predominant values of the time in order to protest the Vietnam war and racial injustice. Your friend’s family, your dad and I agree that your friend group is a solid and supportive one. You’re all good kids who are learning about yourselves and learning to navigate in the world. I’m proud that you’re someone who cares about justice for all, and I think your friend group promotes those values. You’re also good about wearing your mask.

Truly, you’ve never seemed happier. You seem to be enjoying the extracurricular activities you’ve been doing, including a special band event when you played with the high school marching band before a football game. You’ve been having fun at Geek Club, and while your Dungeons & Dragons group has ended for the time being, I could see you getting back into that. The leader of your previous group said he thought you were ready to be a Dungeon Master yourself. You enjoy the long walks to and from school with your friends. I have so many things to worry about (when a vaccine will be available for younger kids, the general state of Iowa, the U.S., and the Earth, and why organic fruit goes bad so quickly, among other things). I’ve decided to embrace your general happiness and let the rest work itself out.

Some of the most heartwarming moments for me are when I see you laughing and joking with your brothers. You and Tobin sometimes clash, but you also having a running banter that can be pretty funny. You’re both getting better at the dishing-out/taking-it balance, and even though it kind of drives your dad and me crazy, it seems to entertain you two. You’ve also been really sweet with Callum lately. You do funny voices to entertain him, and I could tell it made you feel proud when he chose you to interview for a school assignment. As a first-grader, his questions weren’t particularly incisive, but your birthday and the fact that you learned to walk when you were one are now documented.

You seem to have no qualms about discussing it openly, so I’ll mention here that you have mild-to-moderate scoliosis. It’s nowhere near as severe as your dad’s was, and your doctor is confident that if you wear your brace and do your physical therapy exercises, you won’t need surgery. We’re fortunate in that a world-renowned spinal surgeon, the very person who did your dad’s spinal fusion surgery thirty years ago, is at our local hospital. Your dad requested that your appointments be with him, and while he’s probably over-qualified for your case, it can’t hurt to be seen by the best. We’re expecting to get your brace later this month. Modern braces are a lot less obvious and enormous than ones I remember people having when I was young, and you really don’t seem too stressed out about it. I hope that remains true after you get it. You’re supposed to wear it sixteen hours a day, which means you could not wear it to school as long as you put it on right away after getting home. Another possibility would be sleeping with it off and wearing it the rest of the time. We’re just going to have to experiment and see how it works best for you.

It seems like a lot for a thirteen-year-old to deal with, but so far your attitude has been good. I took you for your first physical therapy appointment last week, and you mentioned that your friend also does physical therapy. I’m glad you’re not feeling stigma, and once again, that you have an open and supportive friend group.

Your current favorites: playing Super Mario Brothers, Minecraft, pasta, barbecue chips, spending the absolute minimum time at family-togetherness events like cocktail hour and dinner, your video production class at school, throwing your socks around like a maniac, ice cream, and hanging out with your friends after school.

I love you and am so proud of you, my sweetheart. From the day you were born, I’ve never wanted you to be anyone except exactly who you are. I’m so lucky I get to join you on your journey.

Love,

Mom