1996:
Dear Young One,
Personally, I like "young one" much less than I like "little one", but it didn't really feel right to call you "little one" anymore, so congrats on leveling up, I guess.
I'm not going to lie to you, second grade is a little bit of a bum deal. You don't really get along with your teacher, and very few of the friends that you made last year are in your class, which is a real bummer, as you met some really cool people, particularly GGKK, whom you will be friends with for the rest of your life. (But we'll get to her later -- you don't really start hanging out until next year).
There's also CB, whom you met in Brownies (that's right -- you, my dear girl, are briefly a girl scout, for all the good it does you) and who teaches you spunk and joy. In fact, CB was probably the only positive thing to come out of Brownies. The skills you are taught are about as useful as a 50s infomercial for women, most of your friendships formed there are as cohesive as oil and water, and you constantly make royal fools of yourself in public performance. Your troop disbands after only 2 years, and you never make it to Junior Scout.
This is also the time of some very weird family dynamics. Your mom's side of the family is almost never talked about, and then suddenly they appear in your life, much to your discomfort. They seem to arrival piecemeal over a pretty short time span, as if this is the time that they've been allowed to visit. Grandparents, aunt (only one of 2, by the way. You have zero knowledge of the other until you get to high school), and uncle & cousin. Yup. One day, you will be at home and some strangers will also be there, and you just kind of have to accept that they are your uncle (mom's brother) and cousin. Your uncle is kind of a creeper, but he only stays a few hours. Your cousin, on the other hand, is there for like... 2 weeks or something. A semi-painful two weeks.
Your cousin D is something like 5+ years older than you, and honestly kind of a jerk at this age (he gets better with time). He strangles your stuffed animals, and "kills" your Gundams, but you still desperately try to be friends with him, because he's an older kid, and therefore he's cool. Also, he teaches you to play chess, so, like... trade-offs, I guess. Here's the thing, though -- no one explains to you why Cousin D is staying with your family. Your parents never really specifically tell you to be nice to him or make him feel at home, which, you know, it would have REALLY BEHOOVED THEM TO DO. Why? Because Cousin D's parents are getting a messy divorce, and he's staying with your family during the proceedings. You don't find out about this until nearly a decade later, and while this information might have not been totally pertinent for an eight-year-old to know, your parents are still really lucky that they never explicitly had to tell you, "Hey, maybe be extra nice to your cousin, even if he's kind of being a dick."
On the subject of problems being swept under the rug, this is the first year that you can recall your parents fighting during the holidays, specifically Thanksgiving. Now, this is certainly not their first fight, so certainly not your first rodeo when it comes to fading into the background when they get into it. However, it is the first time that you can recall it getting so bad and so long that they actually carry on into every room in the house. Quietly, you and your sister retreat to your room and shut the door to wait out the storm. Your sister is debating taking you over to her best friend's house to spend Turkey Day and the night, when suddenly you both hear a shout erupt from the other end of the hall, and your sister stops dead.
This is one of those times that you wish you could understand Mandarin. Or maybe not.
Quietly, so quietly, she murmurs, "I think Dad just said, 'Shut up, or I will kill you.'"
A few moments pass. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe 30 minutes. Mom and Dad will wander to your room and tell you that everything is ok.
Lies.
In school the next week, your teacher asks you to write a letter about Thanksgiving to your assigned pen-pal. Not knowing any better, you candidly jot down a line about your parents' row. Several days later, after editing the grammar and spelling in each letter, your teacher quietly asks you to add a line saying that "everything is better now."
And people wonder how you learned to lie so well.
It's not fair that you're taught so young to hold the pain in your chest. But if one, single small silver lining has come of this, it's that you know what it is to need a good listener, and whether or not you mean to, you become one for others. Pain shared is pain lessened, you will tell others in the future. I hope you learn it for yourself one day, too. Chin up.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
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