dear ben,

if you ever have a baby someday, make sure you and your wife/girlfriend/great love of your life go to all the birthing classes beforehand. the nurses are gonna tell you important stuff–stuff like, ‘when your water breaks, get to the hospital right away.’ (did I ever mention that dad and I would go to newport creamery for an awful awful after every birthing class? we’d gas on about how perfectly everything was going to go and wouldn’t we be so prepared when it was finally time.)

anyway, dad and i reveled in our abundance of ignorance until January 4th, a frigid Sunday morning, three weeks before our due date. after doing just about everything wrong, and breaking every rule of responsible birthing class protocol, we learned that the only perfect thing to come from so much planning and preparation, was you.

when I was nineteen, I was running around my southern conservative college campus in Doc marten boots and dresses, utterly convinced that I was going to write a groundbreaking epistolary novel. I had just read Kierkegaard’s Diary of a seducer and was cutting my teeth on too many creative writing workshops. there was something about the idea of correspondence, of love letters in particular, that I loved. and still do.

flash forward to today–you at nineteen. you’re so clever and rational and chock full of raw potential that it takes my breath away. (there are crippling moments of stupidity too, but those are essential for learning…see earlier mention of skipping birthing classes.) you’re fiercely independent, which should make me proud, but I can’t help feeling lonely at being left behind.

so here’s my long-forgotten nineteen year old self meeting your current nineteen year old self, in these pixels. per our earlier agreement, I will not discuss anything that may result in legal action taken against you, but I will share my thoughts and maybe a story or two. you’re too busy now, but there might be a time someday when you’ll be missing me, and you’ll have these letters to come home to because it took me half a lifetime to figure out that we’re the love story that needs telling. happy birthday, ben. I have a feeling it’s going to be our best year yet. love love love you so.

love,

momma