Dear Blacksheep, dear dear Blacksheep,
Three months back (since that sounds more intense than ninety days), when I decided to blog-a-day, I had never once fathomed the way I would weave myself in this intricate pattern of delicate dependence. I am extremely delighted to see you grow from an accidental infant to an eager toddler. I am proud as I write you this letter knowing you wil not only read it, but fully understand each word, each meaning intended in it.
Blacksheep, the very act of naming you carefully denotes the disgrace associated with your being. You have however, inverted it. Your competence with regularity stupefies me to an extent that I am inspired. I still cannot bring myself to believe that you are popular, and not infamous; that you are discussed, and not gossiped about and that you are increasingly interesting rather than boring. I cannot believe it yet, yes. Sometimes I ask myself if you are a prodigy. Perhaps.
I wanted to reach out to you tonight because I wanted this landmark of three months to be memorable. And I wanted to express my unbound joy at your contentment of being what you wanted to be. As we get to know nonsense and sense alike, what makes me happiest is that you can differentiate between the two and not pay prodigal attention to either. Yours is to live through your words, live it to the t.
Celebrating the count,
K.
Three months back (since that sounds more intense than ninety days), when I decided to blog-a-day, I had never once fathomed the way I would weave myself in this intricate pattern of delicate dependence. I am extremely delighted to see you grow from an accidental infant to an eager toddler. I am proud as I write you this letter knowing you wil not only read it, but fully understand each word, each meaning intended in it.
Blacksheep, the very act of naming you carefully denotes the disgrace associated with your being. You have however, inverted it. Your competence with regularity stupefies me to an extent that I am inspired. I still cannot bring myself to believe that you are popular, and not infamous; that you are discussed, and not gossiped about and that you are increasingly interesting rather than boring. I cannot believe it yet, yes. Sometimes I ask myself if you are a prodigy. Perhaps.
I wanted to reach out to you tonight because I wanted this landmark of three months to be memorable. And I wanted to express my unbound joy at your contentment of being what you wanted to be. As we get to know nonsense and sense alike, what makes me happiest is that you can differentiate between the two and not pay prodigal attention to either. Yours is to live through your words, live it to the t.
Celebrating the count,
K.
1 comment:
A blog a day sounds better than an apple a day :)
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