A Love Letter

First, to the people.

2010 - This was the first grade. I was bright blonde and with bangs and pink dresses. No glasses. Thank you Emily, for teaching me how to play Cat's Cradle, and for the Chocolate Brownie Z-Bars after-school. And for the Barbies, the summer, and the gulab jamin, Janhavi, I am forever grateful. And to Matt, for trying to comfort me when I got a red card in class for throwing a book, and then my parents walked in, and I thought I was in the biggest trouble in the whole wide world. Oh, also, Curtis. Thanks for not throwing a desk at me even though you could have.

2011 - My second grade teacher did not like me. Once, we did a project where we built an ecosystem out of construction paper on our classroom wall. I made the burrowing owls. I was very proud of my burrowing owls. But Mrs. Baker didn't think they were so great, so she didn't put them on the wall. She didn't even put 'em up when I made her a card for the holidays. Thank you Mrs. Baker, for teaching me I can't make everyone like me. Thank you to Ashton for confirming that nails and words hurt equally.

2012 - Now it's the third grade. Shelby, thank you for showing me how painful it is to watch someone cry silently, and not be able to help. In third grade, my classmates and I rotated bringing in food from our cultures for everyone to try. When it was my turn, I brought kugel, which my mom and I had worked tirelessly on. Thank you Mom, for helping me make a dish representative of dad's culture, not yours. And lastly, to Dylan, for helping me learn that I don't have to be better at you in math, and I don't have to win the race every time.

2013 - Fourth grade was a time, and I'd like to firstly thank Peyton Manning, because if we watched every Broncos game and got a parent signature, we got extra points on our homework. You got me a lot of extra credit, buddy. Thank you to Lola's Sugar Rush, the now-closed candy shop by my grandparents house, for supplying me gummies of all shapes and sizes to munch on during said football games. To Maddy, for grounding me.

Oh. And thank you to my dad, for gradually acquiring a taste for football and letting me watch it (for the extra points, of course).

2014 - So this was it. Last year of elementary school. I would like to thank Mr. Neibauer, who had us watch the History Channel series on the Revolutionary War and exposed me to my first non-Disney films. Vince, thank you for insulting my lemon meringue pie and telling me the wage gap doesn't exist, you jerk. To Parker for the camping excursions, to Bella for the art, to my Battle of the Books team for losing by two points. Love you guys.

2015 - Lo and behold, here we are, middle school has arrived! The glory days! Lockers! Huzzah! Grandma, thank you for calling me every day after-school to make sure I'd survived the five minute walk home. Thank you for always calling me after-school, from sixth grade on. To Mrs. Matson, for putting up with the driven-but-stamina-challenged team player I was on the sixth grade girl's track team, and to Sarai, for talking so loudly about the all-school musical as I waited in line for the long jump. You're the only reason I thought to audition.

2016 - Seventh grade was rough. Thank you to the people who helped me stay afloat, though we've drifted apart now: Taylor, Emma T., Emma W., Dani, Maddy. Thank you for taking me along that one night we went to the house with all the Christmas lights and the man who lived there gave us hot chocolate. Thank you for that one sleep over when we watched Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies. Worst movie ever, but a night I never forgot.

2017 - And so I was the big fish again, top of the school. Big ol' scary 5'1" eighth grade Maya steps into the picture. Our top choir class had about thirteen people in it; to Liz, Emily, Nana, Nicki, Isaac, Dionte, Zach, Seamus, Emery... all of you... thanks. You made sight reading music a lot more bearable. To the kiddos in the musical that year, Mary Poppins, I love you all. Thank you for letting me tap dance in Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Thank you to Dasha, who to this day will not let me forget I lost the social studies mock trial. You're a treasure.

2018 - Freshman year, and I was a new bean. Mr. Fox, you were possibly my favorite teacher ever. Thank you for opening my eyes to the world. Ms. Brown, I'm sorry your snake (who you for some reason named Daddy) died; thank you for inviting me to the funeral, and for the cake I didn't eat. Thank you to my dead-silent carpool, Sophia, Lizzy, and Alex - thank you for letting me watch Doctor Who in peace on our way home. But mostly, thank you to my creative writing community and the friends I made. Lily, Hannah, Maddie, Maci, Liv, Lorelei, Clary, Samantha, Mia, Ann, Ellen, Dakota, Sophie, Sophia, Ace, Kaylen, Zuza, Zoe, Angel, Moss, Azar, Emma, all the people I'm undoubtedly missing... you are my family. I adore you.

2019 - We've arrived at this year. I am brunette and with bangs and vintage dresses. Glasses. Adam, Kamila, Austyn, Chloe, Liz, Genna, Cornelia, Jessie, Jacob, Remi, Sam, Allie, Lianna, Isaac, Edwin, Claire, Ryan, Jordan, Nathan, Maya, Ethan, Grace, Nic, Joey, Chipo, Sarah, Mel, Alex, Luke, Megan, Prikash, Abby, Julia, Madison, Dot, Emery, all of my performing arts pals: thank you. Lily and Viv, thank you for never ever letting me disappear. Ashley from Best Dressed, yours is the only YouTube channel I've ever diligently watched. Thank you to my family for being so patient as I navigate the wacky world that is mental health medication. And lastly, thank you to Wendy from memory care, who never fails to stuff cookies down my shirt.

Something I wrote in my bullet journal last night:

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2019 was an interesting year. It was one of my worst in many ways, but lots of beautiful things happened, too. I've started taking others' hands, and I've cut my hair, and I definitely feel I have grown. The 2020 color of the year is classic blue; the vice president of the Pantone Color Institute says "it's a color that anticipates what's going to happen next." Whether this is deep and factual or complete bologna (as my sister would say), I like the idea. I'm curious as to what will happen next in my life. In 2020, I will turn 17 - this is my last true year before adulthood. This is the year I'll be the same age as Harry Potter in The Deathly Hallows... which is bonkers. I still remember turning eleven. My dad led me down to the basement, where a light-up Hermione Granger wand "chose" me. My Hogwarts letter came in the mail. I am no longer who I was when I was eleven. I think it's safe to say we are never truly the same person throughout our lives - we morph; we shed skins. I am not sure what iteration of myself 2020 holds in store. My promise is to accept things as they come. I want to come into my own while simultaneously understanding this is a life-long process. I want to get better and appreciate the happy moments I have. I would like to stop laughing to fill up space, and stop thinking of myself in extremes. I am not the best. I am not the worst. I am and will continue to strive to be average. I want to see that being average is extraordinary in itself. I want to get the tea stains off of my teeth. I want to be kinder, just generally kinder. 2020 will whisk me away, and to be honest, I'm excited for that. I am excited for adventures and mediocrity and brown hair and swimming in the summer time. I am excited, dear friend, for classic blue.

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So this is it. My love letter to the decade and to the people who have shaped that decade for me. My love letter to my life, what it's been, and what it will bloom to be. In the next year... I'm not sure what I want to do. I know I want to read more. I know I want to prioritize my sleep and meditate. I know I want to be a better friend. But other than that, I have no outline for 2020; I'm open to all the possibilities. I'm ready.