You are 11 years old and just finished the 5th grade.  You are nervous, anxious, timid, quiet around strangers.  You prefer to hangout with a friend or two over a large party.  You don’t like it when it’s too loud, like when you are at the movies.  You’d rather watch movies at home, on the couch.  You are terrified of elevators.  There have been tears over elevators.  You’re not a fan of bridges and tunnels, either.  But you’ll cross them to get to where you want to go.  You started 5th grade not wanting to start 5th grade.  This is where you learned how to take notes in class, study independently, create presentations, and make speeches.  It was your speech about being afraid of making mistakes, about improving self-confidence, about effort, that found you at the podium, in front of 200 people.  You were one of three chosen by your teachers and peers to recite your speech.  It was spectacular!  Your words resonated with many of the kids and adults in the room.  I was so nervous for you, sitting in the audience I thought my heart was going to pound its way out of my chest.  Sweaty palms, roiling stomach, it was as if I was the one preparing to walk on the stage.

You are at summer camp now, sleeping away from home for a whole week, in a tent, in the woods, surrounded by a bunch of strangers.  I see pictures of you that the camp posts online and some are candid.  It is in those shots that I see how genuinely happy you are.  Looking away from the camera, at someone or something, sincere, interest piqued, coy, eyes lit up.

Keep on reaching, my love.