I do not know you yet. How could I? At 18, I hardly know what I want to do with my life. Right now, you are only a twinkle in my vision of the future, a beautiful, blurry future. But I already know you are beautiful. I hope you will have exotic eyes--like mine that change with your mood, but even if they’re not, they’re beautiful. I hope you will not have hair like mine--brown and infinitely boring, straight, but unmanageable, but even if it is, it’s still beautiful. I hope you are tall with dignity and short with pride. I hope you laugh too loudly and love too deeply. I hope you soar through life with a twinkle in your eye and a spring in your step. I hope you are not invincible, with your pigtails and dirt covered face, because pain is a beautiful emotion, and through it, you will go places you’ve never been before.

You will see the world differently. You will notice cracks in the sidewalk, and you will cry, for what, I do not know yet, but if you are anything like me, you will realize they represent your fractured heart, hardened to the point of no return, or that is what you will say until you notice the little dandelions poking their bright little leaves up through the cracks; then you will smile, and talk about the weather.

You will love differently. Each time you bring me a butterfly, you will say I love you, and smile twirling your bows. In fights, you will also say I love you because love is not dependent on emotion. I hope you are not like me, who loves in desperation, but that you love like your father will: out of hope, beauty, and respect for life.

You will cry differently. I say this as a caution. You will harden your heart to some pain, and that is okay, but do not bottle the pain, no matter how little the offense. Please realize, some days, it is worth it to cry over spilt milk; other days it is not. Know the difference, and indulge your heart. No one will think any less of you, and if they do, cry them out of your system as well.

You will heal differently. Your body will associate certain actions with previous pain and wince. I’m sorry, but you got that from me. I pray your emotional healing does not provide for you in which you feel unable to be touched. You are not fragile, to be handled with care. Let no one place you on a pedestal, no matter how badly you want to be arm’s distance from love. That is not healing; that is torture. Do not torture yourself because it seems safe. Allow yourself to embrace the nitty gritty of life.

If you do that, you will live differently. You will see light and darkness coincide and create a beautiful kaleidoscope of color. Your world will emerge a paradoxical array of beauty and grief and longing and love. You will see gray clouds and laugh. Turning your palms to the sky, you will try and catch the first raindrops the sky cries just to remind her that you are always here to catch her pain, hoping she will do the same for you. Some days, the earth might--dogs are man’s best friend because God gave them a sixth sense used for cheering humans up-- other days, she won’t, but do not be disheartened. That’s just life, sweetheart.

For all that, I hope you are not afraid of pain, but embrace it. Live life to the fullest. Laugh. Catch tears in the corner of your sleeve. And when the pain is too much to bear, some days it will be, I hope you also know that inside of me, there is a spot built for you, and I will catch you.

When you’re three, you’re going to climb the slide and look down tentatively; don’t worry, I will catch you. Later, I will catch you when you climb too high in our tree and are scared to come down. I will catch you when you’re spinning so fast you start to fall over. I will catch you when you’re storming through the house throwing toys at your little brother (he’s gonna be a pain, but trust me, you wouldn’t trade him for the world). I will catch you when you’ve just been dumped. I will catch you when you feel like nothing in your world is going right. I will catch you when everything is perfect.

I will also release you. I will release you into a world where you cannot be anything you want to be, and I will cry, because that is not the world I want for you. I will release you into a world where you will be cat called, and whistled at, and called "slut", and "whore", and "bitch", and "prude", and I will cry, because that is not the world I would choose for you. I will release you into a world where you have a one in three chance of being raped, and I will cry, because I know those wounds, and I would never wish them on you. I will release you to follow your hopes and dreams and passions and desires, and I will cry, because there will be moments I’m so damn proud, I have no other response. I will release you to the man of your dreams, and I will cry, because I will miss you.

I will release you, but I will always welcome you back with loving arms.