A letter to myself one year ago.
Because it’s St. Swithin’s day and I’m one of those people who does things “just because it’s in a book.”
And because Oprah once wrote a letter to her 19-year-old self and talked about her boyfriend Bubba.
And because sometimes (often) I don’t give myself credit for the progress I make in a year.
Dear 24-year-old Jill,
You are living at your parents’ house right now, working an online transcription job that doesn’t nearly pay the bills and waiting for school to start in California. You are kind of excited, kind of terrified, and certainly wondering what you’re doing quitting your life.
Good news! In a year from now you aren’t living at home anymore.
Bad news! In a year from now you still have the transcription job. That one may be with you for some time. You chose writing and every wonderful and horrible thing that goes with it.
Your next year is a good year.
You will fall in love with Malibu and have the most comfortable bed of your life.
You will meet Rob, who will coin your bed “The Marshmallow” and who will invite you to Cape Cod.
You will say yes, obviously.
You will meet Caitlin and very quickly learn that she, one person, will be the greatest single gift you’ve been given in the last year.
You will remember that people who love you as you are will always be the greatest gifts you are given.
You will take up walking. This is a very good thing.
You will try to make curry. This is a very bad thing.
You will start a blog.
You will finish that story you’ve been talking about forever and ever.
You will see your name for the first time as a writer on a big website and it will completely floor you and you will keep clicking and clicking and clicking to make sure it’s real.
You will, once again, only have one boy that really counts this year. Isn’t there only one boy who really counts most years?
You will have some new things to say about him, but largely old things to say about him, and mainly, more than anything you are learning that sometimes your closure is that there is no closure.
And that happiness thing, it’s still as finicky as ever. Maybe it will always be that way. I’ll keep you posted.
Oh, and about December 29th. I would give you advice, but it would ruin it, and as much as you hate not knowing your future, there are some surprises that are worth not knowing. Some moments where your breath catches in your chest and you realize that this, right here, this changes your world and you never expected it and thank heavens you didn’t.
So just know it’s one of those nights.
Also, you really don’t need to bring those just-in-case sweaters to Arizona. Really, really, really.
Love and positive vibes and best of luck to both of our futures,