Dear Me, You Did Good

A letter to my 19-year-old self

Dear Lily,

Remember when you first heard this song? Remember how you tried to move your dull and stagnant fingers across the frets for Sol? Remember how your eyes would scramble while reading Morrison? I remember.

But now you’re back here — back where you fell in love with Horace and the French Revolution’s influences on philosophy and art. Now you’re in love with Audre Lorde and Alice Walker and Tom Stoppard and Bell Hooks and Peter Shaffer and Edward Albee. You’re anew.

Yet, to this day when you hear those triad chord progressions escalating up, your memories of him take you to ground 0. And that’s normal. Back then, your heart simply wanted companionship, but that wasn’t what you needed. You needed strength in your knees to stand up on your own.

Now, you’re standing with both your heels and toes dug into the cold soil beneath your soles. Now you’re looking ahead to the 10th mile checkpoint.

I’m so proud of you.

You may have fallen thousands of times, but you got up to keep running. The hurdles are tall — especially for a short-legged girl like you. But that’s okay. You accelerate and bend your knees three steps before you jump them.

You may feel your heart spew fires at others, but what can a woman do when her heart is the powerhouse of caring and unconditional love? It’s the time, not you that must pass.

I hope this song reminds you of your journey thus far and how much more there is left.