So years from now when you both are in therapy or just dishing it all out to your new, young lovers what your crazy parents did so so terribly wrong when you were being raised... whether it was having 24 sitters before you were 2, Tessa, or not fully understanding all your EH!EH!EH!s, Thatcher, I hope the underlying, deep emotional truth you ultimately dig your way down to is that your parents loved you down to their crazy bones. It's an inevitable duty for every human being to judge the crap out of their own up-raising and I have no doubt that we will not be the exception to the rule. But I do hope and pray that you feel generally understood. I know you feel loved, how can you not when we tell you one thousand times a day. But more than that you feel listened to, cared for, appreciated. That we fill your individual needs in a more than basic way. That you're happy. I hope to God above all else that you are happy. That even when you're sad you're happy.
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