I know you’ll protest that you’re not quite so little . Yes, it is true, that. Had you been in the USA, you would’ve been old enough to drive a car. You’re setting out to do new things in life, you’ve fallen in love- yes, not so young any more. Forgive me, I still see the baby boy who’d tag along after me with a picture book about a parrot,begging me to tell him the story. The chubby kid grinning toothily as he pushed his toy car with his feet- I still remember the day you learnt to pedal.
It is amazing to see the wonderful young man you’ve become- and I do realize that is a very sappy, grown up thing to say. I am a sappy grown-up now, perhaps. It is a bitter-sweet feeling to see you in love- to hear you write and talk about your dreams. Your love is brilliant. You love with a confidence I can never hope to regain.
Somewhere within me there are two sides at war. There is a person who wants you to have every experience, good or bad, because every day is a gear in the machine of life,making it move. She knows that you need to fall, she knows it will only take you higher.
And then there is your older sister, and that part would do anything to shield you from anything that can break you. That part would trade her already fragmented soul to keep your fairy tale intact. Just so you never have to know pain. Yes, there is always pain, even in the happiest of times. Especially in the happiest of times.
All of me wants you to win. All of me wants you to prove the world wrong. To survive unscathed through the pain. To write as pure a love poem as you do now even when you are scorched. Things will break, you know, they always do. But there is a light in you and that light will always shine through.
And even if this makes no sense now, some day you’ll know exactly why I wrote to you.