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Dear Sixteen-year-old Mima
Hello Lovely,
I’ve been talking to you in my head for a lot of years, but this is the first time I’ve thought of writing you an actual letter.
Two things to start. The most important: I love you. No matter what else I write here, my deep, true love for you is what you need to feel and believe. The second: I know you’re probably wondering why I’m picking the spring of your junior year in high school to write to you. I think you can guess the answer, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Just know that that’s where we are. Spring of junior year.
Okay, here goes. You are who you are right now, and that’s not a bad person. Just a person who doesn’t believe in herself. A person who is so busy trying to fit in and be like every other clone-princess at her boarding school, that she has no idea who she really is.
So, the next important thing I wish I could tell you is—stop hiding. Yes, we both know that your dad left when you were really little with no explanation. Yes, you spent years watching other kids with their perfect dads at dinners, at games, at concerts, at plays. Years not answering questions about what your dad does and why he’s never home. Years with a blank smile stretching across your blank face. Moving through life with that invisibility cloak ready to sweep around you at any turn. Wanting to be like everyone else. Making that mirror the mask you wore, because after all, if they’re looking at a mirror, they won’t wonder what’s behind on the wall.
I’ll tell you right now that all the hiding, all the following the pack, doing what they do, wearing what they wear is sucking away your truth. None of these girls knows the answer to life because there is no one-size fits all answer. You might as well love what you love, and love who you are. Man, what I wouldn’t give to slip that mask off you right now.
Oh, I promise you’ll stop wearing it eventually, but a lot of rollercoaster years are going to go by first, where some seriously eff’ed up stuff is going to happen. I just wish you could get to the place where you trust yourself and your instincts sooner. Hey, I’ll even tell you some stuff that will help: you’re half Greek—decide to love that about yourself. Learn the language, eat the food, get to know your Greek family. You love romance novels and fantasy. Read as much as you want, and don’t hide those books under your pillow. A movie called “Star Wars” is going to come out soon, and you are going to be secretly obsessed with it for years. Let the secret out. You have a lot of company. Find those people.
I think you know what’s coming now, and why I’ve chosen this time in your young life to write to you. Yes, the tragedy that happened last fall. You are going to think about that tragedy a lot, and I’ve got to be honest with you, you’ll wish you could’ve acted differently. That instead of seeing that new girl with her big belly, and believing what everyone—her roommates, her teachers, her dorm parents, even her own parents—said about her “health condition,” that you’d trusted your instincts that something wasn’t right. That instead of turning away, you’d had the confidence to be someone that maybe that girl could’ve talked to. Please know I don’t blame you for what happened, or anything you did or didn’t do when it all went down. Last fall you were a naïve fifteen-year-old girl, and there were others who should’ve known what was going on, and helped her.
Here’s a strange truth, though, my love. The tragedy of what happened to that girl and her baby—because yes, let’s say it out loud “there was a baby”—will play a large part in you turning from the pack, and beginning to trust your instincts and loves and beliefs. You’ll think about that girl and her lost baby a lot over the years to come. More and more as you have your own babies. You’ll write about that time and that girl—mostly for yourself—and you’ll write other stories about girls who dare to ask questions and search for self-truth. Girls who learn to belong to themselves. And you’ll hope that other girls, other people will find your stories, and maybe start asking their own questions and trusting their own instincts. Hold on to hope. It’s a good thing.
That’s all for now. Again, I love you, Mima, so be kind to yourself and try to love yourself.
I’m rooting for you,
xxM
Half-Greek, half-American, Mima Tipper and her writing reflect her heritage—a little bit old-country, a little bit rock and roll: one foot wandering through the dreamy realms of myths and faerie tales, the other running on the solid ground of fast-paced, contemporary story. She earned her MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and has published YA fiction in Hunger Mountain and Sucker Literary magazine. “Kat’s Greek Summer” will be her first published novel. Beyond devoting most of her time to writing, Mima volunteers at her local library and is committed to promoting literacy. Mima lives in Vermont with her family. Learn more at: www.mimatipper.com
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