Dear Future Self,

Once upon a time, you were young. Remember that? When every new day held a promise of new wonders, and when you woke up every morning and the sun was shining or clouds filled the sky or rain sprinkled on your roof, you’d stretch, yawn and pry yourself from bed with the promise of a cup of coffee brewing to revive you and wipe the sleepies from your eyes?

Everything was so monumental back then. Every moment seemed like the most important moment in your life. So necessary, so pivotal, so real. All the people you encountered, your friends, your family, your teachers, everyone was so important to you. You always had trouble expressing these sentiments of deep compassion and care for your loved ones, and you often were consumed by the frantic urge to convey to people how much you loved them. It was like you thought time would run out, that you wouldn’t be able to tell them if you didn’t tell them now.

That is why hugs were so important to you back then. The ability to hold someone for a moment in time made you feel as if you could hold their ephemeral selves forever. The warmth, the care, the life embodied in that moment was one of the many things you lived for. Human contact was always essential in your book. I hope you still hug those around you with vigor, that you still have strength and love to give and someone wonderful, many someones wonderful to pick up the slack when you’re tired.

You dreamed so vividly back then. Not just at night, but about the future too. You thought it didn’t matter what you’d been through or where you came from. You firmly believed that, despite it all, you could be happy, you would be happy. And life would get better. And I’m sure it did. How could it not? With that bright disposition and never-say-die dress you wore so well, even when it was a little crumpled and frumpy...

Remember how you loved to read back then? It really was your favorite thing, and you definitely weren’t ashamed of it. The library, your place of origin, was inevitably your place of rest. Over and over again you read “The Little Prince,” your favorite; you were moved so easily by its simple poetry and delicate characters. You were moved by everything you read and heard. And you desperately wanted to move others. You would often speak of the importance of passion, or affecting a change in others, for good or bad, you didn’t care which because you knew you couldn’t really control which, you just wanted to be remembered. That was interesting.

You were so starry-eyed then. I wonder if you are now. Or has life weighed you down? Let’s hope not. You had every reason not to be optimistic then — life wasn’t exactly easy for you, even if you were lucky enough to be a Stanford student. Times were bad, sometimes, but you always managed to still give freely of yourself, even when you thought you had nothing left to give. That was a good choice, friend and I’m sure it served you well.

You may laugh at how sure I seemed to be back then. But it was just a part of who I was. Never sure of the present, but always sure of the future. Funny. Funny you thought the future was the one thing you could be sure of, the one thing you could control. In a sense, I guess this was true — you determined each step and path you took, but the events that would unfold beyond that, you had no idea. But I bet it worked out fine.

This simple portrait I’ve given you of yourself is so you will remember and know what you were and to remind myself now what I never desire to cease to be. Grow, by all means, change, morph, learn, live, cry, die when it’s time, but please don’t ever forget, while there is breath in your body, that life is worth living. Even when all the world says “No,” says this planet is dying, that we should pick up and leave and go to Mars, that people are destroying each other, etc. etc. Please don’t be jaded by such reports. I can’t really tell you why life is worth living, but I know that it is. So just believe me. And remember. And show me why.

You always,

Chelsey Little