A Love Note, Passed On
A love note on Juneteenth, and the freedom of being fully known
Andrew left me a shoebox covered in kisses, a Lego mini figure and a handwritten note on Juneteenth, and inside it sat a pair of two toned coral-red Jordans. The torn page that you can still see the indents from the wire marks was neatly folded over with a heart.
I opened it slowly because I was not expecting anything when I returned home from a nature filled journey gathering farm fresh strawberries, garlic scapes, homemade sweet treats and flowers from nearby farms with dear friends.
As I read the note, I found my husband telling his wife that she matters, that she is loved, that she is beautiful and seen by everyone, especially him.
I wrote myself whole long before Andrew ever handed me that note, and still, watching someone else witness the wholeness I built feels like its own type of homecoming. He did not hand me an identity. He confirmed one that was already standing on solid ground.
I kept thinking about what it means to receive a note like that on Juneteenth specifically, a day already built around the idea of being seen and being free and being told, however late, that you always mattered.
Andrew’s note became its own small emancipation inside our home, a private declaration that the woman he married never needed permission to take up this much space and more importantly, she is now safe and supported enough by him, her community and her soul tribe of friends to do exactly that.
So I am doing what I do with the things that make me expand to new heights. I am passing it on, because the truth in his note was never meant to live on just a shoebox, in my home and only my heart. It is simply too beautiful. And because I know I am a ripple effect, not a closed loop…I say these words to us all.
Never forget that you matter, you are loved, and you are beautiful and seen by everyone, especially you.
Happy Juneteenth!