Dear Millie.

My first letter to myself. It's Jana's fault.

New readers may learn about me here.

I wrote elsewhere about Jana’s challenge to write myself a letter. Here’s what happened when I took up the challenge.

I’m not telling her that I wrote this. I like Jana, but some days she’s too smart for my own good. We’re both members of the same writer’s group, and I wonder if she’s got the whole group of us walking down this self-improvement thing.

I took a long time to post this here - and I may take it down after a bit - I’m not sure about that. The internet is full of strangers, after all. But some of you are ok.

Dear Millie.

Your friend Jana is to blame for this letter, so you may want to cut her loose if you don’t like what you read here.

Jana told you to write yourself a letter. On paper. Put it in a box and read it later. ‘Later’ was not specified in days or months or years.

We’re going to have a talk. A lecture, so to speak. And you can run away any time you like, because I know that’s the kind of thing you tend to do. I’ll still be here when you come back, because that’s also what you tend to do.

First of all, we need to talk about your parents.

I’ll wait here while you get yourself put back together.

You need to remember that they loved you more than life itself. And it’s ok to remember them, even riding the swings with your dad. Write about them. Share them. They are some of the most important people in your life. And they’re not done with you, so don’t shut them out, or forget them. Treasure every memory. And because you tend to forget things, write down those memories. Keep them with me, in the same box.

I really started not liking Jana at this point, but with a box of tissues, I kept going.

Next, we need to talk about your family. You aren’t just holding on to these people. They have willingly become yours. You should probably start admitting to others that you are theirs, too. I don’t mean make a big show of it. But treat them less like children who embarrass you and more like the lifetime mates they are becoming. Because you know, and I know, that when something serious derails your life, these are going to be the people who won’t let you down. Won’t walk away. And won’t let you be hurt. So give them a cookie and share your relationship with the world. Yes, we all know it’s not like “everyone else’s”. Millie, look at me, right here, in my eyes. What the world thinks about you and your family is unimportant. And yes, I can see your soul recoiling about that. Because you do that - you go to the depths of the worst thing you can think about yourself and decide it’s true. Well, Millie, you’re wrong. And I think you know it deep inside, down here where I’m sitting. Which, by the way, it wouldn’t hurt for you to spiff up the place in here. A new carpet, better chair. And for heaven’s sake, get rid of this stupid quill pen I have to use, just because you think that makes me somehow more “writerly”, whatever that means.

Let’s talk about what you see in the mirror. I’m getting pretty damn tired of you calling yourself “thirty six year old tits”. Because first off, you’re almost thirty seven, and second because that’s what guys think when they see you. Well, they also think ‘doable’, ‘Kona’s mom’, ‘hot milf’, and other things, but the point is, you need to start seeing yourself in a different light. And, if you must, celebrate your exterior, but give the girl between your ears some credit, too. So, I suggest you come up with a new way of telling people about yourself.

Here’s another thing - your past. You have been an absolute vault about what happened between the night your parents died and when you got hired full time at the vineyard. Maybe think about putting that stuff down too, because, and I’m certain of this, someday, if you share that, you’re going to help some young girl in the future. Probably more than one. You know that’s what the old man would say.

Ok, that’s enough for one session. We’ll take this up next time you drop by. And Millie, remember this until that time comes…. You matter. And so does everyone you touch, either in a helpful or hurtful way. So be the girl your Mom trained you to be. We both know that’s who you really are.

-Millie