Dear Jessalyn,
I'm not entirely sure if you'll ever read this.
Maybe one day you'll stumble across these letters. Maybe someone will send them to you. Maybe years from now you'll be cleaning out an old folder and discover hundreds of words written with your name at the top. Or maybe you'll never see any of them at all.
The truth is, I don't know.
What I do know is that there are things I want to leave behind for you.
Not money. Not possessions. Not things that can be packed into boxes and stored away.
Stories.
Memories.
Lessons.
Pieces of my heart.
The older I get, the more I realize how quickly time moves. One day blends into the next, and before you know it, months have passed. Years have passed. Moments that once felt impossible to forget begin to soften around the edges.
I don't want that to happen to the things that matter most.
I want you to know who I am beyond the title of Mom.
I want you to know the books that made me laugh, the songs that made me cry, the dreams I chased, the mistakes I made, and the lessons life taught me along the way.
I want you to know about our family, the stories that came before you, and the people who helped shape the person you became.
I want you to know what life looked like in this moment in time.
Most of all, I want you to know how often I thought about you.
So I'm starting this series.
Every week, I'll sit down and write a letter. Some may be serious. Some may be funny. Some may be memories from long ago, while others may simply be about something that happened that week.
There are no rules.
Just words.
Just memories.
Just a mom writing to her daughter.
Maybe one day these letters will help you understand me a little better.
Maybe they'll help you understand yourself.
Or maybe they'll simply remind you that there was never a time when you weren't loved.
That's enough reason to write them.
So this is the beginning.
The first letter.
The first page.
The first step in a journey I hope will last for years.
And if you ever do find these words someday, I hope you read them knowing that every single one was written with love.
Today, as I begin this series, I find myself thinking about all the different versions of you I've been lucky enough to know. The little girl who filled every room with energy, laughter, and endless questions.
I've missed so much of the teenager finding her own path and the young woman stepping into adulthood, and I don't think you'll ever truly know how much that hurts. There are moments, memories, milestones, and ordinary days that I wish I could have shared with you.
More than anything, I hope that one day we can make up for some of that lost time. I know we can never get those years back, but I hope we can create new memories together in the years ahead.
No matter how many changes there are, one thing will never change: being your mom has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
This week I'm reading books, as usual, because I don't think there has ever been a version of me that wasn't carrying around a story.
Books have always been my escape, my comfort, my adventure, and sometimes even my therapy. They've taught me about courage, hope, love, resilience, and second chances.
If there's one thing I hope you always have in your life, it's a story that makes you feel seen.
Until next week,
Love always,
Mom
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