My trip home

Hi there,
I went home to Illinois to visit you this weekend. Boy, you are growing up fast. You're so smart, but I worry about you. We had some clashes this trip. It's been so long since I've seen you, andI feel terrible that we didn't get along very well. Well, I guess it's not that we didn't get along, I think we just haven't figured out how to interact yet. I've always played with you like a kid, because I want you to have fun with me. But I think that's led to a little confusion about my role in your life. You see me as a playmate, another kid to play with, so when I correct you or ask you to do something (or stop doing something) you resist. And by resist I mean refuse to mind, and at times, you can be really hurtful. It breaks my heart to see you behave this way, and to correct you, because I know it's not your fault. You're too young to be held completely accountable for your behavior.

As I write this, I wonder what purpose it serves. Am I writing this to someday show it to you? If so, why? I'm afraid that when you grow up, you'll only feel guilt, or worse yet, nothing, when you read this. And what if I leave this out of the copy I let you read? Am I just writing this for me? Why? This is not the kind of thing I want to remember. I guess I just need to process it, and take responsibility for the mistakes I've made as an aunt.

The first mistake I made was moving away from you. I left Illinois about a month before you were born. Someday I'll tell you why. I didn't get to meet you until you were a few days old. It killed me to be so far away when you made your way into the world. But at the same time, I don't think you'd like me as much if I lived closer. I don't see you that often, so when I do, I want to make it as fun as possible, so you remember me and want to play with me. If you saw me all the time, it wouldn't be that special.

I think I've written enough for tonight. I'll fill in some blanks later. For now, know that I love you and would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.