A Letter to My Imaginary Child

Dear, my imaginary child.

Hello, kiddo. Well, I call you kiddo because I don’t know what your gender would be. I hope you are okay with this nickname. Wait, of course you should be okay with this name; I am your mother. I decide everything.

A good friend of mine asked me to write “A Letter to My Imaginary Child” on my own, (and this is her own version) so, yes, I accepted her challenge.

So, well. Hello, kiddo. You would find this letter soon enough. I don’t know, you might dig deep on my blog, or maybe you’d just find this letter in my hard-drive and thinking, “Hell, my mom is a cheesy one.” Kiddo, I may look tough outside, but wow, play me Saving Private Ryan the movie on TV before I go to bed, and I guarantee your breakfast for tomorrow morning would be salty because—ahem—my tears will be still running down from my eyes.

Kiddo, I've never considered that I would be having any kids. I love kids—of course I do—but I don’t know, even the thought of me getting married doesn’t usually cross my mind. It’s not like I don’t want you or your father in my life. I want you. I want him. I want us to be together until the end of the era. But I’m still 19 years old by the time I write this. I still have many goals to achieve: one of them is to make your grandmother and your lovely uncle become the happiest person in the world.

Kiddo, ever since you are child, I will always ask you to accompany me somewhere using public transportation. Even at the time you're entering your Junior High School year, I will just leave you to school using public transportation by your own. Ask people to get directions. Just get lost and explore your city. You will get to understand the struggles of all people. You will find the true beauty inside this fucked up city and trust me, it will make you a real human.

Kiddo, whether you are a girl or a boy, I will teach you how to play guitar or piano (or any music instruments would do too). I will make you a room of your own. You are free to decorate it in your own version. You can request me and dad to paint the solar system or the Disney princess on the wall, whatever. Or if you want to paint it by yourself, fine. Just make sure it looks cool.

Kiddo, I may not give you any modern gadgets, so instead, I put many books on the shelves. I will insist you to read. I will insist you to find your own world through the pages. Or I guess I will just provide other things you’re really passionate about. Just tell me and dad what kind of things you like, then me and dad shall not disturb you and trying our best to make you happy and look cool and classy in front of your friends.

Kiddo, I gotta tell you this. I don’t have much friends. On weekends, maybe you’d find me sitting on the couch, reading a book, watching TV, writing something, or else. I don’t really like socializing. So, I prefer to be at home, watching you growing up.

Kiddo, we might pet cats at home. Oh, yes. Those furs of happiness (I hope your father doesn’t bring the asthma line to our family). Oh, right! When you enter my room, you will see my desk in a mess. Tell you this: I can only concentrate when my desk is full and messy. You would think I’m weird, well then you are, too. Some of my genes are flowing through the blood inside your body, you know. You will learn about this when you are in Senior High School. And you will somehow understand why your friends in school call you a weirdo.

Kiddo, I will teach you about humanity and behaviour. Do you still see people throwing their candy paper everywhere instead of putting it into the trash can? Or do you still wonder why old, seems like well-educated people queuing outside the line so that they can be the first? Or maybe you will wonder why people, in this era, still body-shaming and mocking others' religions as if their religion is the very best? I'll teach you about what you should do, and what you should not. I will teach you how to be a human.

Kiddo, I am such a middle-temperament person. I don’t usually get angry over something. But when I do, I would just hit the wall so hard it hurts my hand. I also cry much when I’m having a hard time. I hope you and your father will be able to handle me at my worst.

Kiddo, life is tough. Your grandfather died when I was only 14 years old. My life had torn apart. And it hurt, really, really hurt. Your grandmother has been teaching me how to be a tough person. She also teaches me to be grateful and to be happy no matter what happens. And your uncle always tries his best to make me happy even until now.

And that’s what I would teach you: be a tough person, be grateful, and don't forget to be happy. Life is hard, indeed. But you will always find the way.

If you feel like crying, just cry as hard as you can. Cry until your tears run dry. If you feel like angry, hit and throw everything. Scream as loud as you can. Scream until you lose your voice.

But there is one thing you need to know: it is that I will always be right here when you need someone to talk to. If you’re tired of all the shit, call me. Call for someone. Call that Pizza Hut delivery man and order 5 boxes of large pizza. It’s okay, and it will always be okay. Come on, you’re not Patung Pancoran that always seems to be alone. You have me. You have your dad. You have everyone. Don’t be arrogant by thinking that you can solve your problems alone.

Kiddo, I am not a religious person. But trust me, if you find yourself in a very hellish, dark place, pray for your God. Cry for the God. Say what you want for the God. It really helps much. I've been there done that.

Kiddo, I am not a verbal person. Instead of showing my love and my affection, I will just write it down, or maybe transforming those words into the action. I hope you understand. I won’t always say “I love you” in every occasion. Please don’t hate me for this. I don’t know about your dad, I hope he’s a verbal person and such an understanding person.

And this letter almost reaches 1,000 words. Oh, my God.

Kiddo, I'm really waiting for the time when I will be able to see you in the future. I can hardly wait for that. Together with your loving father and the cats, we will create a very perfect family in spite of our imperfectness. And I also hope that we can get along together. Together we are strong, together we are loved. 

I love you.

Cheers,

Your weird, non-verbal mother.

(ps: please do your homework when you finish reading this or I will tell your dad to disconnect the WiFi).