Dear Paxton,

If I could describe life in one word (it counts as one, because of the hyphen), it would be bungee-jumping.  I’ve only lived 20-something years of it so far, but it’s the best I can come up with.  Life is one big long bungee-jumping extravaganza.

The first 18+ years of your life are simply the “getting ready” phase of the jump.  (I’ve never actually bungee-jumped, so I’m winging this as I go.)  You spend this time watching videos about the correct procedures, buckling in the safety harnesses, and learning the directions.  These years are guided by your parents, friends, teachers, etc…  It’s important to listen to all the directions.

Then you go to college.  In college, your feet are on the edge and your looking out over the platform.  You put your big toe over the edge, back off, and reevaluate the situation.  You make sure you actually want to go through with it. Then you slide the other big toe over, and repeat.  You know the jump is coming, but you want to hang on to all the help as long as you can.

Jump.  You know you’re going to have to, and it’s terrifying, and it’s exciting, and it’s incredible…all at the very same time.  The jump happens when you are ready to go out and conquer those dreams.  I jumped head first, because that’s how I am, and that’s how I feel you should jump so you don’t break your neck.  I accepted a job in a town I’d never heard of, and I started the fall.

Here’s where the ride gets good.  The fall can last for several years.  It’s full of ups and downs.  Of hitting so low you think you’re going to actually smack your face on rock bottom, but then by the grace of God you bounce back up.  You spend several years in this lingo.  Things go well, then things go bad.  You’re an adrenaline junkie, Pax, so I know you’ll enjoy this phase.  It’s full of learning, stepping outside your comfort zone, meeting new people, falling in love, being heart-broken, falling in love harder, ups and downs.

The float.  Eventually you come to a steady hang-  the float.  Everything is comfortable in the float.  You have a job that you like, a family you’d go to the moon for, a warm place to call home, and a close group of friends.  The float can last for years.  I find that people often stay in the float for the rest of their lives.  Well, that’s not like your mama.  I don’t just stay.

The climb.  Every once in awhile, a few people feel brave.  These people decide that the float is great, but there might be more.  These people take every single ounce of strength in their being, and they climb.  I was one heck of a rope-climber when I was in elementary school.  It was my favorite.  They had 5 different challenges that got harder each time.  The 5th challenge was climbing the rope with no legs. I did the 5th challenge in first grade.  I should’ve known then that I’d forever be a climber.  Warning- your daddy is also a climber.  I’ve heard stories about him finding his way to the roof of his old house so fast that the only way your grandparents knew he was up there was when they heard his little footsteps pitter-pattering.  The climb is hard, even harder than the jump, because you can see how far you have to go.  But at the end of the climb, you get to jump again.  And that jump, that jump is beautiful.

You are almost 11 months old, and we have decided to climb instead of float.  In a few weeks now, we are heading out to Colorado for Christmas.  We’ll spend a week and a half with your Grammy and Pops, with Uncle Logan and Aunt Kelsey.  We’ll sit around and laugh at your little temper tantrums that you’ve started to throw.  We’ll absorb your smiles and your sparkly eyes.  We’ll chase you around as you crawl all over the place, and we’ll help you learn to walk.  We’ll have a tree full of presents for your first Christmas, and you’ll be fascinated with the wrapping paper and bows.  We’ll wonder what we ever talked about during dinner before we watched you shovel your food in at record speeds.

And we’ll look for houses.

Yeah, you read that right.  I love our life we have here.  I love my job.  I love our house.  But I’ve always belonged in Colorado.  I was deeply jealous of Uncle Logan when he accepted a job out there.  I’ve always been able to breathe deeper in Colorado.  There’s something about those mountains.  I pray you love the mountains, the trees, nature in general, as much as I grew up to love them.

Here’s what I’ve learned at the ripe old age of 28.  People have regrets.  I’ve told a few people our plans, and you wouldn’t believe the people who say, “I always wanted to move, but we just never got around to it.”

People get caught in the float.  They never get out.  Illinois is great, but I don’t want to look back and think what would have happened if I would’ve got off my lazy butt and chose the climb over the float.

It’s not going to be easy.  I’m going to have to dust off my old interview suits.  We’re going to have to put this house that we love on the market, without knowing for sure that our jobs are lined up in August.  I’m going to have to say goodbye to some pretty amazing people.  I’m going to pack away my photography business in hopes that I can build up new clientele in a brand new place.  It means you being farther away from one set of grandparents, one aunt and uncle, and your cousins.  It’s definitely a climb.  It also means being closer to Grammy and Pops, Uncle Logan and Aunt Kelsey, and your daddy’s Aunt Mary Ann.

I don’t know what these next few months look like for us.  I know it’s going to be a lot of work.  The climb always is.  But this time, when I put my toes back over the edge, you get to enjoy the jump with me.  I don’t know if Colorado will be your dream place, or if one day, you’ll tell your daddy and I that you are heading to a different place.  I do know that you have it deep down in your soul, to be a climber.  Reach sweet girl.

I love you,

Your mom.