March 1988Dear 32 year old Tiffany,
I know I'm only eight.
I know that you're probably thinking that I have a lot to learn before I turn into the person you are. But I want to tell you something. I want to make sure you remain the person I am.
I hope that you still love music. I hope you can also now afford to actually buy tapes rather than recording music off of your pink radio.
I hope you still have your pink radio, because it is my favorite thing I own.
I hope you have two pink radios.
I hope you've seen Paula Abdul in person at least once.
I hope that you have two daughters named Wendy and Ginger because those names are my favorite.
I hope that your brothers have stopped being immature and annoying. I hope that they play with you more now that you're older. I hope they've started to see things your way.
I hope that you figured out the secret to climbing the rope in gym class before you graduated. Because dangling from the bottom is nothing short of humiliating.
I hope you are an artist and get to draw all day.
I hope your thighs aren't big. Or that they didn't get any larger.
I hope you still love ice cream and macaroni and cheese.
I hope you're in love with someone who is good at sports and likes to do nice things for you.
I hope that the baby inside your mom's tummy is a brother so you still get your own room.
I hope that Mrs. Damman gets to be your teacher again because she is the nicest teacher ever.
I hope that your mom will let you get a perm.
I hope that the perm makes your hair curly forever.
I hope you have a pink convertible car, like Barbie.
I hope you win the jump rope contest at least once before sixth grade.
I hope that you are still dancing.
I hope that your favorite color is still pink.
I hope you didn't kiss any boys in high school, because that's gross.
I hope you are still nice to people.
I hope you learn how to stick up for yourself.
xoxoxo,
Eight year old Tiffany
Dear eight year old Tiffany,
I don't want to tell you how the rest of it goes and spoil the living part. But I can tell you that the baby inside your mom's tummy is a boy, and you will get a perm this summer before school. And your brothers will NEVER see things your way.
Also, sweet socks.
xoxoxox,
32 year old Tiffany
3 comments:
Love it! Oh I do remember the days of taping songs off the radio. But mine was never pink!!!! GAH!
I remember the 8 year old Tiffany really well. I remember dancing to your pink radio in your bedroom. I remember chasing, playing, and being chased by Collin and Aaron. I remember when your mom had Isaac. I also remember how he would hold his breath and turn blue. It scared me. I remember having to be quiet after he was born. I tried so hard to whisper when we played Where in the World is Carmen SanDiego, but probably couldn't contain myself because of excitement. I remember riding your horses, swinging on your swings, swimming in your pool. I remember building forts in the creek across from your field. I remember how bad my feet burned when I nearly lost them to frostbite when we thought it would be ok to walk barefoot with wet feet across the snow covered field. I remember how much I loved your mom's cheeseburgers. I was super picky (and still am), but I never ate other peoples homemade burgers, but loved your moms. I remember climbing the rope in Lyons Elementary, only to fall off. I was too embarrassed to cry. I remember Mrs. Cothrell's jump-a-thons..I never won. I remember Miss Durbin spoiling us and always letting us go clean erasers together in ralph's closet. I remember when Brian McGowan was your boyfriend, and Jeff Herrick mine, and I think we decided to switch. That may have only lasted a day. I remember so much more. I remember you were my best friend. Thanks for the memories. BTW, was this a letter that you actually wrote to yourself, or a reflection back?
Oh Dan your memory is AMAZING!! love this blog Tiff! Makes me laugh to think back that far!!! Seems like a different life doesn't it????? And yes did u really write the letter at 8?????
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