Dear Mandyana.
"We'll all grow up...no pretending we won't."
-Louisa May Alcott.
There's actually only one person who never grows up. A boy. Named Peter. And you are not him. Not even close. Because in twelve more years, you will be thirty. Isn't that something? A thirty year old fairy.
But this year,
you get to be eighteen.
You get to be eighteen and learn French and bake bread and paint pictures and possibly get a fish eye lens for Patricia somehow. This year you get to be one year closer to thirty. You get to be less like "Beth" and more like you. This year maybe you'll leave the country and do something for someone else. This year is yours.
All yours.
I would give it to you. Wrapped up with all the constellations in a box and tied with a peach coloured ribbon.
That is how much you mean to me.
I love you.
Joyeux anniversaire.
Your Bells.
"We'll all grow up...no pretending we won't."
-Louisa May Alcott.
There's actually only one person who never grows up. A boy. Named Peter. And you are not him. Not even close. Because in twelve more years, you will be thirty. Isn't that something? A thirty year old fairy.
But this year,
you get to be eighteen.
You get to be eighteen and learn French and bake bread and paint pictures and possibly get a fish eye lens for Patricia somehow. This year you get to be one year closer to thirty. You get to be less like "Beth" and more like you. This year maybe you'll leave the country and do something for someone else. This year is yours.
All yours.
I would give it to you. Wrapped up with all the constellations in a box and tied with a peach coloured ribbon.
That is how much you mean to me.
I love you.
Joyeux anniversaire.
Your Bells.
P.s. Taped underneath the computer is the clue you need to keep moving. It is labeled "Fairy."
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