All Things Written

All The Things I Want To Tell You

Month: January 2019

Returning to Texas

Returning to Texas brought warmth in every aspect. We saw you frequently since the move whether over Facetime or our yearly visits, but my heart sprung at the idea of waking up to you again.

We returned in March, nearly two and a half years after we first left. It was the tail-end of winter in Pittsburgh and the beginning of spring in Texas, when bluebonnets covered fields and patches of grass along the highway.

We were moving into a season of trial, though I couldn’t comprehend this at the time. We knew it meant moving into the house where you were growing up with Nanny. We knew it meant big change and having you with us more often, but we still hadn’t discussed the reality of us adopting you. It was unclear what role we’d take. Would we commit to super devoted Aunt and Uncle? Or would we fully take on the role of mom and dad? And what does this mean for you and Nanny?

This wasn’t a decision we could make on our own. This was up to your Nanny, the one who currently held custody of you, it was up to us, but also, it was up to you. After the initial move, when we settled into our room, 75% of our stuff in a storage unit down the street, we began to unravel the questions.   

Aubrey Cofield

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Moving On

Written for my sister. This is a letter to her first love. 

Letting you go creates a pain grabbing at my stomach, returning me to the first time we spoke.

I moved to Albuquerque in August just before starting my freshman year of high-school. I entered high-school leaving my Dora Explorer look behind and adopting a more sophisticated… well let’s just face it, I probably still closely resembled Dora. But you noticed me when I thought so little of myself.  You resembled everything I loved in a boy. Tall, handsome, funny, and interested in me. I noticed the way people gravitated towards you. You made them feel significant in a setting where most felt worthless. I held you in high regard, and for the first time put a boy on a pedestal.

I love you for the way you fall in love with everyone you meet, but I also despise it. You repeatedly find solace in things and people that hurt you. The momentary high drives you. I see the amazing you and I hold on to that for the night. But I’m tired of disappointing each-other the next day. Holding our worth in each-other only to find we’re significantly flawed. It’s a rollercoaster where the high feels like forever, but the drop in your stomach, as everything plummets, reminds you no one can sustain you forever. I’ll never regret loving you, because through it I learned the importance that comes with loving myself.

Suddenly you’re worth and motivation was held up in all the ways I loved you. I convinced myself I needed to be all those things for you. But I’m only human and at 18 I’m certain I don’t know it all. I’m certain I have a lot of growing to do. I’m certain our current foundation will crumble.

I don’t want to find myself consumed with our arguments anymore. I don’t want to make each-other sad another second. I want growth. With all the cheesiness I can muster, I hope you find God. I hope you find him in all the places you feel empty. I hope you ask hard questions, and I hope you find answers. Don’t settle for anything that doesn’t nourish your soul. I’m setting out on an adventure; to ask all the questions, visit all the places, talk to all the people, and meet myself at the end. I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I’m confident we’ll be ok. You’re not alone. I believe God loves you regardless of what you do, but through understanding your purpose in him comes this natural maturing and love for yourself. Whatever you do, wherever we find ourselves years from now, whether traveling on a boat together (like we planned), or meeting again after years apart only to find we’ve both found “The One”, I hope we can laugh together at the fickle plans we made at 18.

-Aubrey Cofield

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Bittersweet Goodbye (Journey to Adoption 3)

Growing up I wanted nothing more than to leave Texas, my home state, the same place I grew up for nearly my whole life. I held onto this fairytale notion that escaping the monotony of everything might set my soul free. I wanted to travel East, and this was our chance. I received my acceptance letter from The University of Pittsburgh, and your father, a recent college graduate, already had a job lined up in the area.

We left a few days after Christmas. I sat in the passenger side of the U-Haul observing my town slowly creep behind us. The parks and restaurants that once faded to the backdrop of my everyday life now stood out, my brain taking a mental picture of a place that suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

I hugged you tightly a few days before, not knowing when I’d see you again. It felt wrong somehow, but I couldn’t understand exactly why. We didn’t know what soon would follow. You were still in their custody at the time and a large part of us hoped it might work out, that they might muster the strength to pull it together eventually. And so, we left, in a U-Haul passing the most familiar place I’ve ever known and deeply missing you.

-Aubrey Cofield

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