Week One: Letter to my 13-year-old self

Dear me,

Hi there. Let's get the hard stuff out of the way first: You know that guy you started going out with in camp last summer? The cute one with brown curly hair a little bit like yours, who liked soccer and gave you that woven bracelet you're still wearing. The one who is still writing you letters that you don't return because you are "busy," whatever that means. Stop ignoring him. Write him back. I'm not kidding. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but he might be the best boyfriend you have up until now, four days after your 27th birthday. He definitely takes second place, if not first. I know. I'm sorry. You sort of develop this, uh, thing for things that don't work out. I really apologize. We're working on it, but in the meantime, write him back. Now. He wrote you a POEM, for heaven's sake.

And speaking of that, during your senior year in high school, another guy will write you a poem. It's a very sweet poem that you may well keep for the rest of your life. Go out with him, too. I mean it, and I will know what you're thinking when you think you don't want to, but you will be wrong. Your reasons are dumb, frankly. Also, please try to get better at taking well-intentioned advice without interpreting it as criticism. (Twenty-seven-year-old you has a little trouble with that also, but again, you're working on it.)

But! Here is the good news. Aside from your family, most of the people who mean the most to you? You haven't even met them yet. It's the fall of 1990, you're in ninth grade... I think a couple of them are just beginning to come into view. Two of them are in your homeroom, and one of them is in your typing class. Definitely keep photography in your plan for next year -- she will turn out to be one of the most amazing friends you will ever have. So will the rest of those people in marching band, and the people connected to the people in marching band. Yes, marching band. Also concert band and pit orchestra and jazz band and percussion ensemble. Those are your people. Stay oblivious to the fact that many people think it is dorky. You genuinely don't care, and that is one of the best things about you, 13-year-old Gwen.

Try to that remember that when you go to Israel sophomore year: Don't waste so much time being scared and miserable, because you don't have much time to waste there. Believe it or not, you will love Jerusalem so much that by the end of the semester you will cry the whole way to the airport in a group taxi at 4 a.m. Also, while you're there, think twice about letting that guy at the end of the block cut your hair. Let this a closing lesson to you: Have a common language with your hairdresser.

But for the most part, just know that there is so much yet to come. I didn't even start on college -- you really like it there, and you will find more of your people (and also your writing thing, but we'll leave that a semi-surprise), and then later when you move away to a big city far away you'll find still more. Anyway, pay attention, and don't forget to slow down sometimes -- you'll get there. Here. :)

love,
me