Hey Jude,
Please excuse me for being a month late on your Hello letter. By the time you read this, my guess is that you will have already become familiar with my tardy tendencies. But perhaps there’s hope for future Me.
Current Me is 24. I live in Cincinnati with three friends and we have a really good time not growing up but also not burning the house down. There is a suitcase on the floor of my room that is always semi-packed; not quite packed, and not quite unpacked. I like to think this means I'm going places.
I think you’re going places too.
It’s hard to tell where, because your biggest outing thus far has been down the street to the Rusty Bucket to watch the Browns game. Both of us were sleeping. One of us was being held by a blonde cutie. (Spoiler alert: it was you. And your mom is a babe.)
Through yawns of boredom, I decide to switch my gaze from football to you: Current You is the chillest thing ever. You prefer to be naked. (I hope this has since changed.) You are gentle. (I hope this hasn’t changed.) And you are super snuggly. (I’m actually kind of in shock that my brother made something as perfect as you ;))
But I watch your dad take your mom’s hand…and a fresh diaper. And I watch the guy that used to tease me, used to tear down the pool with an Irish vengeance, used to be the class clown, the joker….I watch him coo at you and rock your little body to sleep.
And then I think about how your mama loves you. How she carried you inside her all across the Spanish coastline. So I thought, yes, Jude Thomas, with all that love, YOU are going places. Here are some things I wish you would pack in your hypothetical suitcase:
Adventure-- sometimes journeys go awry. You get lost. Cue torrential downpour. Cue hunger. Cue all odds ganging up on you. You find yourself at a crossroads of Disaster and Your Next Best Story. The adventurer chooses the latter. They think up new routes, new ways, new solutions. They understand that it does not come easy; they understand that the only way to find it is to chase it.
In keeping with this suitcase metaphor, Prayer—it’s a windbreaker, and it must always be packed. Without it, you become a weaker version of yourself. You let puddles swallow you. You let the wind destroy your will to continue. With prayer: Same puddle maybe, but suddenly it’s not so foreboding. Instead of drowning, you jump in it. Prayer shatters fear. It creates an inner fortitude. Clothe yourself in prayer.
Treat your Friends well. Think of them, and let them know that you do. (Postcards are cheap.) Your parents are both excellent friends. It amazes me how truly loyal your mom is--she's maintained friendships from grade school. It amazes me how kind your dad is--he laughs at people's jokes even when they're not funny, and he makes each person he meets feel heard and valued. No man is a failure who has friends.
Party—it’s important to celebrate things: Life, love, an A on a test (or maybe just a passing grade), a goal accomplished, a goal scored…I wish more things could be seen as parties. For example, I’m currently on a five hour bus ride. The driver is at a loss of how to fix the fire-breathing vents. People have removed, on average, two pieces of their clothing. There is a man sticking his head out the window…his shirt is unbuttoned. All women over the age of 40 are experiencing hot flashes, and I fear they will cry mutiny on this poor driver. A baby is crying. A temperature gauge is incessantly beeping. As far as parties go, this one sucks. But, as soon as my feet hit cold, hard (emphasis on cold) ground…I’m going to return home. All I have in the fridge is a carton of eggs. So I’m going to throw a Breakfast for Dinner party. And that, is something to be excited about! Maybe I’m the only attendant at this party. But that’s okay. Celebrate safe travels. Celebrate the invention of AC. Celebrate when it works. Celebrate eggs for dinner. Celebrate what you can. Life’s more fun, when you pack a party.
So here’s to celebrating you, Jude! Here's to all the adventures you seek. All the friends you reach. The prayers you keep. And the party that is your very existence. I can't wait to see where you take this suitcase. Each destination on your roadmap is extremely lucky to get you. And I am extremely lucky to know you.
You are on your way, little one.
All my smothering, pinch-you-on-the-cheek, embarrassing love,
Aunt Molly