I do not write this letter to you to impart sage wisdom and advice wrought from and earned through wearying experience nor to warn you against the various pitfalls and obstacles you will face. Rather, I wish to praise you because I think you were pretty awesome. Sometimes, I wish I still had the mental fortitude or the work etiquette you had.

You're the me that used to read three books a day and always finished your homework before eating a snack after school. You had such confidence and self-assurance that I miss and never fully appreciated until I lost a bit of it. You took blows and remained standing, unscathed and willing to try again or move on. You fell and walked off those scraped knees (or visited the nurse's office because you were her most frequent visitor). You played rough. You fought off bullies then befriended them. You were always smiling, and you always tried your hardest.

You didn't care a bit about what people thought of you. You were unashamedly yourself, crooked teeth and mud-stained shorts and all. You talked too much. You tripped over thin air (still do), but you were also kind and loyal, standing up to or for anyone if you felt you needed to. You were smart. You didn't feel like you needed to prove it, and you weren't ashamed of what you didn't know. You loved learning and always sought to expand your horizons. You sang the loudest even when you couldn't sing well. You wore white when you were told to wear red and green.

You were bold where I now sometimes back down. You were compassionate where I am at times oblivious, and you never watched what you said because you spoke your truth. I count my words and second guess my opinions.

I hope I haven't discouraged you. I've grown. I've changed. I make mistakes, and I have lost some of my sparkle. I am afraid of things I never once was, but I am braver in other ways as well. I may not be you anymore, but that isn't bad because people are supposed to change, for the better and the worse, throughout their lives.

Maybe, one day, I'll look back nostalgically at this me and see something kind of awesome as well. At least, I think I'm kind of cool now, but you — you were something special. I would say don't change, but...well...it's a bit too late now, isn't it?

All the love, and all the thanks from an older you. Take care and live loudly.

Sincerely yours.

Love, me.