THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

Dear Nancy,

Yay! You opened my letter. That means a lot to me because it's August 5, and you know what that means. It’s my birthday! I’m eighteen today! And you'll always be the most important person in my life, no contest! Can you remember how special it felt, being eighteen? I am hoping you will sit down and read this letter all the way through, just like it’s a homework assignment, just like we're sitting next to each other. I mean, I hope you don’t just skip through it. Please take the same amount of time to read this as I am taking to write it. I mean, carefully, with respect even ( is that a silly word to use?). Because, Nancy, it is SO important for me to talk to you, even if it is just in a letter, and not in person.

Do you remember what you did on your eighteenth birthday? How did you feel? What did you think about? Who were you with? Surely you can’t have forgotten. Eighteen is like the beginning of being grown-up, isn’t it?

First things first, I want to know, are you still calling yourself “Nancy”, now that you are an adult? I keep wondering. A name is so important, isn't it? Maybe you decided to call yourself (and have other people call you) “Nan”? I always liked that shorter version. Or is “Nan” short for Nanette? Or maybe you never liked “Nancy,” and now that you are a legit adult, you are using your middle name, “Marilou” as your first name? I would be ok with that; it makes me think of Marilou Henner, the actress. Or maybe you don’t remember her?

One thing I bet is that you don’t have those shoulder-length dreadlocks woven with those tiny pearls anymore like you did in your teens. Remember, dad tried to talk you out of them and back into those little girly pigtails! But you hung tough, I remember. Is that still you, Nan? I bet you have a boyfriend by now, and maybe now you do your hair to please him! Actually, now that you are in your thirties (which sounds so old, even though I know when I get there it won’t feel that way at all), you probably have had a gazillion boyfriends by now. Smart ones, handsome ones, or rich ones.

And maybe you even have a husband by now, or even two husbands (I mean one at a time). Oh my god, what if you have kids! A divorcee with 2 kids? It is so hard for me to imagine, but hold on, I take that back. I can even see you with a couple of identical twins! I think you would be a good mother if you did have children. You were a good babysitter. That counts for something, doesn’t it? Or maybe you have been climbing the career ladder, and you have become a high-paid tech CEO in Silicon Valley, driving a Lamborghini on weekends. Is that too far-fetched? Dad said you were as good at math and economics in school as the boys. For a while, anyway.

But what about me, the birthday girl? You must be asking. Well, there’s so much to tell. What if I told you I’ve learned how to drive, that next weekend I'll be graduating from Lincoln Heights High as class valedictorian with full honors, and that I'm going steady with the head of the varsity rowing team ( a Chris Hemsworth look-alike?

Well, Nan, that would be a lie. Actually, that would be three lies. Three Whoppers. You know why? Because I dropped out of school last year, and there was that accident with dad’s new Toyota (I still say it wasn’t my fault). The streetlights are so bad at night here, and honest, I only had one beer. (Ok, two and maybe a shot). So they took my license away, and well, I’m not living at home anymore, as it turns out. But hey, at 18, I still have my whole life ahead of me, don’t I? Mom and dad stopped that stingy allowance they were giving me, but I managed to pick up a little cash here and there doing this and that. But I won't bore you with those details. And honestly, I don't mind standing on a street corner at night once in a while, if it's not too cold and my old miniskirts hold up. I’d probably get bigger tips if I had a dog. I’m thinking of getting one from the pound. As soon as I get my community service done, you know. Those store detectives still won’t believe that I wasn’t shoplifting. Well, not consciously anyway. My mind wanders a lot. And maybe my fingers do, too, when my mind is wandering. So, I’m on my way, Nan, as you can see. What are a few missteps? I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me. I knew you’d be happy to hear how I was doing.

Ok, it is time to sign off, Nancy. I’m glad you followed the directions and dug the box up with this letter inside, and you are reading it on the day I mentioned, today, my birthday. I knew you would remember this cute jewelry box with the little sterling silver birds on the top. Remember, it was a gift on my 12th birthday from Auntie Gifford (yes, the aunt with the trash-talking parakeet and the blind budgie bird), that aunt!

Gosh, you are 35 now, and I am 18, Nancy. Our birthdays are on the same day. And to commemorate, I wanted to tell you how it was to be me at 18, because you have probably forgotten a lot of the ups and downs of being a teenager. And I am so curious to know what sort of a 35-year-old you are (or turned out to be). Maybe you’ll bury your answer to this letter in the same box in the same garden. To be opened 18 years in the future.

Of course, I will be middle-aged by then, just like you, and that next letter from a 36-year-old me will be to a fifty-four-year-old you.

But you and I will still always be…… me.

Love,

Nancy