Little Brittney,

This is me. I want to say in the first grade. Ish.It's definitely pre-second grade, which was when my teeth and face and hair took a nasty turn for the worst.

Some of your birthdays have not been "the best." (see 17th birthday: having strep throat, a sinus infection, pink eye, and the flu). And even though my license still says, "under 21," I turned 25 this year. And it was the best. birthday. ever. (way better than 18th birthday: when they admitted Dad to the hospital for emergency surgery).

• I woke up and had presents to open from my grandparents, first thing. Then Mom sent pictures from my (incredibly awkward) childhood. Then a surprise breakfast run. And Dad wrote me a story. And I got to video chat with my family. I love those guys.
• And then. 
• Then. 
• As luck would have it, my birthday fell on a Tuesday. I love Taco Tuesday. Ninety-three percent of the time, Taco Tuesday is the greatest holiday of the week. And rather than just go to one taqueria, Chris took me on a taco tour. We had chicken and pork and fish and steak and red sauce and green sauce and horchata and coke and we walked from taco trucks to restaurants to taquerias. and I was so happy. 
• And when I came home and my roommates had left out three slices of cake and candles for me, which we shared for breakfast the next day. 

Just keep growing up. You're doing fine. You'll be fine.

- girl with all her grown up teeth (btw, getting my wisdom tooth taken out in a couple weeks... yikes.)

Little Brittney,

this is Chris on our late night doughnut run to Bob's. I've had Bob's before, but never been in person. For reasons not even I understand, seeing the doughnut man squish the dough into the deep frier was the new Best/Happiest/Greatest Moment Ever

This week was a busy one in the Bay Area. Out of necessity, “Do Laundry” became “Eh, Rub a Tide Pen On It And You’ll Be Fine.” And I realized I haven’t been grocery shopping in nine weeks. I know how much you love food, preparing it, eating it, sharing it, talking about it, but I have some bad news: the closest thing I’ve done to “cooking” is A) putting milk in cereal and B) rinsing off berries to put in a salad. Other than that, I haven’t so much as boiled water. But you’re eating well. Not to worry.

- chef brittney

little Brittney,

We don't really get "the fall" in the Bay Area, so I loved this text that my mom sent me of the Aspens (my favorite tree) in front of our house.

One of my favorite Mark Twain quotes is, "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme." You'll read it next semester in Dr. Hickman's class. And while we're on the subject of your Sophomore year, I might as well tell you: it will not be awesome. Anyway, I just started law school, and my life "rhymes" with yours in the following (internet appropriate) ways:

• Homework all the time: 21 credits of a new major then, first year law student now
• Ross, Joey, Chandler, Phoebe, Rachel, and Monica are my best friends.
• Love my classes – even though I’m working way too hard
• A roommate obsessed with Korean soap operas
• Another brother about to go on a mission
• A frighteningly similar dating pattern
• A close friend from Sunnyvale
• Video chats and g-chat
• Accutane
• No car

Those things (and a few others) create an interesting rhyme scheme. It's kind of eerie, like Poe's "Telltale Heart," or Spears' "Baby One More Time." I think the similarities would freak me out if I wasn't so happy here. The good news is, and hear this on every level, as not awesome as your life is now, I'm doing it better this time around. It's awesome.

britt

little Brittney,

crappy picture where you can see the amazing purple explosion of flowers right by my window. they're right above the air mattress and seventeen obligatory blankets. San Francisco is freezing.

I start law school in the morning, and I’ve been thinking about you. People keep saying how hard the upcoming year is going to be, and I believe them; I’m terrified. But then I remember that you’ve had some low points, and it’s not “fun” but if you’re kind and work hard, you make it through them. Also, I know you think the soul-crushing sadness is permanent, but Derek’s right: Somehow, impossibly, you won’t feel like this anymore. It won’t hurt this much.

Love,
britt

Little Brittney

Picture from Marin

The Barlow kids are going to Harpers Ferry tomorrow, and I know you’re a little worried about missing out. It’s fine. In a few weeks for Memorial Day weekend, kids in your new ward will invite you to do some hiking, and you’ll go.

britt

Little Brittney,

(Breezy has a cord that matches mine! She also likes sharing!)

You are twelve now, right? When I came out to DC for the first time, I missed the last week of the eighth grade... I’m pretty sure that means you’re twelve. This morning you went to church with your family, you sang your then-favorite hymn, “Lord, I Would Follow Thee,” and Grandma told you that you had a beautiful voice. I wanted to write to tell you that in a few years, you’ll be back to this exact building, and in Relief Society you'll have a testimony meeting where you sing hymns the whole hour. The girl next to you will lean over and tell you that you have a beautiful voice. You’ll remember how much you love your family, and promptly burst into tears. Then, you’ll fill out paperwork, get your picture taken, and be an actual member of the Washington, DC 2nd ward.

You are so freaking lucky.
britt