To Ben, on His 13th Birthday
Ben Russell Johnson,
When you were about two years old, I panicked because I thought I failed you. Thinking about how I’d spent hours with your brother meticulously teaching him things like letters and numbers and shapes and colors, I realized I hadn’t done the same for you at all.
So I brought out books and toys ready to correct my errors and combat the stereotype that second born kids get the short end of the stick. But with each new concept I found that you already knew...everything. What’s this? A circle. How about this? Green.
And that is the first time I remember thinking this kid is full of surprises.
At the end of kindergarten, you came home with a 30 foot long scroll on which you’d written your numbers in order into the tens of thousands. Ms. Berry said you spent every rest time for the entire year writing numbers instead of napping.
And that’s when I thought this kid can do anything he sets his mind to.
In first grade, Mr. H told me that he’d solved the mystery of who was moving Mr. Bear around the classroom every day when he realized it happened during the time you were in piano lessons while the rest of the class was at recess. He smiled while he told me about this moment of mischief.
And that’s when I realized this kid knows how to win people over with humor.
When you were in fifth grade, I sobbed when a mom I’d never met told me you were the first kid who had ever been kind to her son. I had no idea that you were stopping every morning on your walk to school to wait for him because no one else did.
That’s when I knew this kid can teach me so much about how to treat other people.
During pandemic schooling, I watched you take care of business with very little help from anyone, excelling in your classes, maintaining friendships despite not having the ability to gather in person, and keeping a sense of humor that buoyed our entire household during a challenging time.
As you settle into our new home, a new school, a new normal, you continue to surprise me, to show how determined you are, to be everyone’s favorite person, and to exude heroic kindness.
Whether you’re playing the euphonium, getting your black belt, leading on the baseball field, working toward your Eagle, or deciding on a whim to start a new sport (Wrestling? Okay!), I am so stinking proud to watch you live your life.
There are nearly 8 billion humans on Earth right now, and if I was going to choose someone to be in charge of all of them, it would be you. I’m sure you’re already thinking, “Mom, this is embarrassing. Why so many words?” So I’ll keep this “you’re a teenager now, so here’s some advice just for you from your mom” part short:
Your empathy will guide you in how to treat others, so don’t ever let anyone tell you that gentle kindness is a weakness.
Your humility will steer you as you continue to excel, but don’t be afraid to also be proud of your accomplishments.
Your inner critic will motivate you to be your best, so don’t let other voices convince you that they matter more.
Your sense of humor will serve you when you find yourself in the company of people who don’t love you (yet), and if you find that it doesn’t, those aren’t your people.
I cannot wait for our foodie trip to NYC in a few weeks—I hope it’s as magical for you as it is for me to be your mom. In the immortal words of one of our mutual heroines, Donna Meagle, “TREAT YO SELF.”
I’ll leave you with these profound words from another person I know you admire. Love you more than you’ll ever know.
Love,
Mom