Letters to Me

A letter to my 27 year-old self ::

27. 
It was a doozy, but you made it through.

You still want that Jeep. And a lavender farm. One thing at a time right?

One thing is certain...You're tougher than you may have realized.
And, hey! Look what you accomplished, 
you bought a house all on your own and escaped the world of landlords.
You have yet to fully unpack said house. But, you realize there are bigger, more important, things than that. It'll get done. Maybe next year.

With each day, you defined yourself. You have a pretty solid grasp on who you are. You've embraced all your quirks. And ya know what? You like them. 
Sure, things still aren't perfect. They never will be. But you remember that that's okay. You remember that we've all got bruises.



A letter to my newly 28 year-old self ::

28. 
You still have so much living to do. A lot lies ahead.
Sure, this year may bring some tears and sadness. But I have a feeling this year will bring laughter, travel, healing and fun.

You're still young; late-twenties, pshhh. You're barely even a grown up (shhh don't mention the mortgage!).

This year, let yourself feel. Experience the highs. Experience the lows. Let it all continue to build you into who you are.

Oh, and don't forget to drink a lot of craft beer. Brew your own already! Keep supporting local, embracing your surroundings and inspiring (ok, maybe annoying) those around you with your silly ideas.

Be kind. Be there for others. Scatter joy.

And remember.....Chin up, buttercup. Everything will be okay.


// Image via a favorite blog //