Dear S.

It is not about composure or confidence.

It is not the vast income or lavish lifestyle.

Nor the dream partner. The picket white fence. The large kitchen. Pristine marble tabletops. Nor your adorable, lovely children who wonder about the world in cute delight.

That is not what an adult is all about.

Perhaps it is just a number, an age.

It is not about not making mistakes. It is the mistakes, the experience of the aftermath; it’s everything that happens which shapes who you are.

Maybe one day… I will truly believe that.

Maybe one day I can forgive myself for the mistakes I will make.

Maybe one day I will not expect perfection from myself.

And so life goes on, until that one, fine, single day.

For now, do not hold it against yourself to make those mistakes and cry about them. Honestly you have not made enough of them to give up now.

Be patient and live.

Do not forget, I will love you always no matter what.

Yours always and faithfully,
S.