Dear younger me,

Thank you for dreaming, for imagining, for gripping onto the pen, for believing in what started out as a ludicrous premise and committing to it, for the fitful fevers that consumed the page, for writing what you love and ache for, for a story that is by no means perfect—but what I can only call the perfect distillation of all your years of existence: what an older me would never have been able to write. Only you. At this point in your life. In a world altered by a pandemic. With the solo intensity of a hermit.

And whatever happens next as you set the story free into the virtual ether, stay proud of yourself for completing this first journey. And as one journey ends, another begins. I’ll walk on now with what you started out with, and I’ll hug it close, remembering that it is the landscape along the way—and the facets and depths of self we’ve encountered and uncovered—that more than anything will give every destination its meaning. And in waking up today and continuing the journey with a purpose that electrifies, I start to realize I’ve already found my biggest blessing.

With love,

23-year-old me

Lastly and most importantly: This letter is dedicated to Mom and Dad, who have been my most incredible pillars of love, faith and strength through life’s highs and lows, imbuing the most ordinary of moments with the most extraordinary light ❤️

And to God: I am forever humbled by Your guidance and inspiration.