Dear Little One

I didn’t realize seven was so young, yet I saw the undeveloped mind of my own son and ferociously protected him, knowing he wasn’t capable of protecting himself. I didn’t remember how small 45 pounds/42 inches was until I took a second glance at all the kiddos walking down the sidewalk to school. Now, I see the real you in the woods. You aren’t 42. You aren’t 160 pounds. You aren’t 5’6″. You don’t lift weights or intimidate anyone. No, you are little, innocent, and confused.

I treated you as one who knows better. I treated you like you had an adult mind, forgetting what innocence looks like. I’ve punished you for things you did without understanding or having the support you needed. I’ve punished you for not obeying simple rules about staying out of the woods. I’ve berated you for going into the woods at all and especially going back into the woods every day for months. I’ve forgotten that not knowing is not the same as deserving punishment.

A little one needs comfort, protection, love, and safety. I haven’t given you any of those things. I’ve abandoned you. I’ve hated you. I’ve punished you. I’ve spewed nasty words at you. That has gone on long enough. So, now I’m walking into the woods to bring you out. You aren’t alone. You aren’t in trouble. I am here. I am always here. And if you choose to walk back into the woods, I promise to go back and get you time and time again. I will protect you with the ferocity that I protect my own son.

I’m sorry you were hurt; I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry no one was there for you; I’m sorry I haven’t been there. I’m sorry you were punished; I’m sorry for punishing you. I’m sorry the adults in your life treated you as if you should’ve known better; I’m sorry I have treated you as an adult. I’m sorry no one kept you safe; I’m sorry I haven’t been a safe person.

Sincerely

42-year-old Becks