Dear Me (Back When I Thought I Knew Everything),

Ya don’t know it yet, but ya stronger than ya feel, smarter than ya give ya self credit for, and kinder than most folks deserve. Ya think ya gotta have everythin’ figure out by thirty—baby on ya hip, man by ya side, house spotless, and supper on the table before six. But let me tell ya right now: life’s gonna laugh in ya face and hand ya a different pattern to follow.

There will be days ya feel like unravelin’. The world will tug at ya loose ends—marriage, motherhood, that job ya stayed at longer than ya shoulda—and ya question if ya doing any of it right. Ya cry, alight,  into the dishwater, say things ya regret, and bite ya tongue when ya shoulda. And still, ya keep goin’.

That’s what I want ya to know, honey. Ya keep going.

One day, ya gonna pick up a crochet hook on a whim, just to quiet ya mind. And would ya know it? That little hook’s gonna teach ya more ‘bout life than any self-help book ever could. Loop by loop, stitch by stitch—ya piece ya’self back together. And eventually, ya use that same hook to hold space for others too.

Ya learn that the measure of a good life ain’t how clean ya floors are or how quiet ya kids behave in church. It’s in how well ya loved, how  ya lifted others up when they were low, and how ya kept showin’ up—messy bun, chipped nail polish, and all.

So be gentle with ya’self, young lady.

Stop worryin’ so much ‘bout what folks think. The ones who matter will see ya heart, not ya mistakes. And that baby girl ya raisin’? She’s gonna grow up and make ya prouder than ya can ‘magine—just wait. She’s watchin’ ya now, learnin’ how to be brave by how ya keep goin’ even when it’s hard.

One day, ya be sittin’ in a sunny corner with gray in your braid and laughter lines around ya eyes, and ya realize ya made it. Ya stitched a whole life out of scraps—love, loss, grace, grit—and it’s beautiful.

Now go fix ya face, girl. Ya gotta livin’ to do.

With love and a peppermint in my pocket,
Fannie Mae (from the future)