Dear Little Tyler,

Little Tyler,

That has been my name for so long, but no one has called me that in years. I think most people write letters to their younger selves as they reflect on what they would have done differently. This letter is not about that. You were wonderful and I am thankful for where we are today.

I want you to know how strong and tough you were and yet we still have such a tender heart. Your beauty overflowed out of your eyes, your heart, your deep sadness, your joy, your sarcasm, your sacrificial way of living life, your words, your compassion, your doubts and questions and your raw honesty. You did the best you could and your best was beautiful.

You are talented. You are enough. You are unique. You are loved. You are beautiful. You are whole.

We have come so far and now I want to wrap you in one of our coziest blankets—and you know how much we love cozy blankets—and tell you that everything is going to be okay and that you are so, so loved. We have been driving this car through life (a red mini cooper, of course), but I am going to put you in the passenger seat now. I am going to rest your head in my lap as I run my fingers through your hair and drive the car for us. And I will not let anything happen to you. I love you.

Love, Tyler