Dear J, If you are reading this now, I didn't make it. I asked your mom to give you this letter whenever you face your first existential crisis as an adult. As I write this letter, I am looking at your ultrasound, and to be honest, I'm a little scared. Will I live long enough to see you fully grown? Will your mom and I be able to provide a solid life for you? Would we scar you with trauma too deep to heal from? Unfortunately, it's been a little more than two decades since I wrote this, and all I can do is hope that we were enough. However, I know for a fact that you are in your early twenties, armed with your mother's beauty, fierceness, and my curiosity. I also know that at this point, just like me, you are trying to figure out where you fit in life, and if you turned out anything like me, this will be all-consuming. But first, how are you? What are you up to these days? What are your dreams? Are you as passionate as fire and as welcoming as the waves? How is your mother? Does she talk about me? Did she find love again, or is that part of her heart locked away? I fear that these are answers I may never know, and I can only hope that the time we spent together was enough. However, that is enough of the questions and musings. Consider this letter a delayed inheritance, in which I bestow five things that will help you build the best life possible. The first thing I can give is love. I want you to know that no matter what your life looks like, I love you and I'm proud of you. When the world feels lonely and dark, remember there is love at home. I have loved you since the very first idea of you crossed my mind, and I hope you love yourself even more fiercely. The second thing I can give you is a sprinkle of confidence. I may not be with you physically, but in the words of your grandma, I have prayed for you, and your name was penned on the list of the greats. I know that you are smart and have all it takes to kick the heck out of life and make me proud. Whenever you are in doubt, remember how impressive your mother is and that you are no doubt an upgrade. My third gift is perception. Life is hard, but that is its blessing. You never know how far you can climb without mountains in front of you. You don't know how much you can stretch until pressure threatens to pull you apart. You do not know how much greatness resides in you until you choose not to cower in fear. When you feel cold, remember that there are many ways to keep warm. The way you frame your problems affects your ability to scale them. My fourth gift is pacing. Take your time, savour each moment, enjoy the small things, and try as much as you are interested in; don't worry about ten years from now. Take one day at a time. One foot and then another. Take moments to breathe. Work hard, but learn to unwind. Untangle yourself from unnecessary expectations and live freely. My last gift is community. Connect with people who show genuine interest in you. Open your heart responsibly. Life is meant to be shared, and some of my greatest moments have been shared with my greatest companions. You will be hurt, and you may be taken advantage of. You may be burned by people. But share love, grief, joy, and gifts. Life is worth sharing with others. Finally, I leave you with this truth. You are enough. You are capable, you are loved. And this season is just one of many designed to make you even better and stronger. I wish I could do more: hold your hands, share more wisdom, listen to your rants, and buy ice cream afterwards. But that's alright, I left money for ice cream with your mom; all you need to do is ask.