Have you heard? Today, June 1, 2011, is School Picture day.
I have read articles and heard stories of people writing letters to their younger self. Though I have written my younger self letters in my head, I have never put pen to paper about the topic. Then, a couple of days ago, I read a blog by The G is Silent. Her letter is not to her younger self; instead, her letter is to the young kids of 2011.
When I consider School Picture Day, letters to one’s younger self and Ms. Silent G’s letter to the good kids of 2011, I find this to be the perfect opportunity to write a letter to my younger self. I decided to write to my fourth grade self, because that was the start of a wonderful friendship.
The elementary school I attended from first through third grade was renovated and made into a school for handicapped and special needs kids. As a result, I moved to a new school at the start of my fourth grade year. I cannot say I remember the very first day I walked into my new school, but I can tell you I met my bestest friend. (Note to Editors: Yes, I know bestest is not a word. At least I didn’t say most bestest.) She and I became friends that year, and we remain friends to this very day. Trust me when I say, it’s been a few years since those pictures were taken.
Fourth grade was also the year I had my first crush. Well, my first crush at that school. Even though I was only in fourth grade, I assure you I had crushes long before that ‘Moon Eyes’ guy. Peter, Michael, Brian, Theodore, Darius, Thomas, Lincoln … Okay, I am exaggerating. Though Peter, Michael and Darius are real. (Aside: Peter was my crush in kindergarten. Interesting enough (to me anyway), Peter graduated from the same high school as my husband. Same year. Even better, they went to college together. Yeah. I know. Crazy! FYI: my husband has aged way better than Peter. D’oh!)
My apologies, I tend to get carried away when I think back to my school years. I was such a fly on the wall; I mean, I was a wallflower. I wanted to be a fly on the wall. Come to think of it, being a wallflower is about as as good as being a fly on the wall, right? This is me getting carried away again, eh?
So, to my fourth grade self, I would begin by saying, Be thankful your original school changed and you were sent to a new school. I would let myself know that the girl I met and became friends with in fourth grade, helped me through some serious stuff later in life. To my fourth grade self I would say, Her friendship will never wane, and you will make many memories. I do not want to incriminate you or your friend by sharing the memories here; just know memories are made, all sorts of fun memories. And know she finds you funny, and she laughs at your jokes. Plus, she encourages you to write. Stick with her, Kid. She is a real forever friend.
Let yourself be goofy. Own it. You do goofy so well. Continue to write. Hold on to the piece you write about Mr. Parkinson. It will be the piece that you remember for the rest of your life, and you will be upset (years later) when you cannot find it to read. Try not to let math freak you out so much. Oh, and do not let the teachers fool you, you do not need to know about Farmer John’s blue tractor donning 4 red and black wheels, which rotate 5 times for every X number of inches the tractor travels on Tuesdays in the rain.
You know what, Lenore? Just live your life the way you want to live your life. (And, continue your loathing of math.) The fact of the matter is that you turn out great. Sure, it will take a few (20) years for you to break out of your shell, but you break out, eventually. Though, I will tell you now, your boobs won’t grow. Sorry. And, do not buy into the hype about big boobs when pregnant, either. Won’t happen.
In other news, you will play sports. In fact, you will learn pretty quickly that softballs are not really soft. (You will still play, though. I guess you get used to the knocks.) Know what else? You will get to go on a date! Sure, you will not get asked out on a date until you are 19, but hey – it is a date. (Oh yeah, the thing that happens when you get nervous continues throughout life. Your best friend knows what I am talking about – check with her.) Do not let the late dating life bring you down. The guy you marry is really hot. Really hot. 100% worth waiting … and waiting …. and waiting …*yawn*… and waiting for.
You do run into a little problem with your temper. You may even throw things, like a bike. And maybe, you will slam doors. Okay, you will slam doors. Many doors. You might yell and scream, too. Okay, you will yell and scream. Crying? Yeah, you will do that, too. As a result, the following news should not surprise you: medication is in your future.
No worries, though, Lenore. As I said earlier, you turn out great. You and your hot husband make two great looking boys. You have a great family and wonderful friends. Plus, you meet some of the best people through blogging. So keep on keepin’ on, Lenore. It gets better, even as you get old.
Oh, Lenore. I do have one bit of advice – no, it’s not advice, it’s a directive. In college, when Tara asks you to go with her to the Lyons Apartments so she can hang out with this guy she likes, say no. She’ll tell you he has a friend. Still, say no. Say. No.