Title: Letters to Me
Summary: The Older Generation writes letters to themselves at seventeen. Inspired by Letter to Me by Brad Paisley.
Rating: K+
A/N: MY TWENTIETH STORY! OH YEAH, BABY! Only took me a year and some months, but I got there...
I started writing this letter when I first heard the song…Brad Paisley always manages to make me want to write. Henry has a lot of resentment against him…I think he's a good guy, underneath, he's just scared and doesn't quite understand what's happening. Younger Henry, however…he seems to be the Sabrina of his time…maybe even the Puck of his generation.
Veronica and Jake are here too...they've got some wishes and problems too. It's a threeshot, no more, no less.
Disclaimer: Don't own the Sisters Grimm, thanks for suggesting it, though.
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Dear Henry,
There's no easy way to say this, no way to say it so that you'll believe me, but I'm you. I'm you from 25 years into the future. I'm forty-two, and I can prove it to you.
If you'll take the time to look under your bed, you'll see a Skoal can and a Playboy. No one else knows you've got them. Jake doesn't even know—and that means it's a huge secret. Don't worry, I won't tell on you—I'd be ratting myself out, and I'm not exactly going to go there. Mom would kill me (us? you? I don't know how to say it when letters are flying through time).
If I've got my timing right, you're seventeen years old, and you just broke up with Jessica. I know it's tough when you break up after seven months, and I know you really liked her, but she wasn't right for you. I know it doesn't seem fair right now, but the pain will be quick, and luckily for you, it's rare. She wasn't right for you, and I know you feel like you got stabbed in the back by Tony - no, don't kill him - and I know you're wondering if you'll get through it, but you'll make it through, and you'll be around to write this letter to me.
You've got a lot going for you—so much that's going right and you don't see it right now. You don't see it because, well, you're seventeen, and it's hard to see past Friday night.
Another piece of advice: at the stop sign at Tomlinson and Eighth, always, always stop completely, and don't just tap the breaks. Trust me; you'll be glad you did.
And when you finally get a date with Bridget, make sure the gas tank is full. No, on second thought, don't. That one turned out kinda cool. And it's exactly the kind of thing you and Jake are all about. Bridget was actually pretty impressed—although I didn't find that out for a year or two.
Another thing—every time you and Dad get in a fight, just assume you're wrong, and Dad is right. Dad's always right; while he might be overbearing sometimes, he just wants to protect you. And your time together might be limited—you never know when it'll end—and so you should just love it while you can.
And you really should thank Mrs. Brinkman, for spending so much extra time teaching you and helping you become the best you can be. She didn't have to spend all those afternoons tutoring you, but she did. It's like she saw the diamond underneath your rocky exterior, and she just polished you (me? us?) until you (I? we?)shone. She really wanted what was best for you—and you have so much talent in history, so much talent that you really shouldn't let go to waste.
I can't stress enough how much you've got going for you—you'll do great things. Don't you worry about that.
I guess tonight would be the bonfire rally, the homecoming one you've been looking forward to since last year. But you're not going to go, are you? You're going to do the right thing, and you'll stay home and study Algebra. If you don't get your grade up, Mom and Dad will absolutely murder you. But that studying will pay off; you'll squeak by and get a solid C.
Of course Mom and Dad don't kill you—after all, you're still around to write this letter to me, aren't you?
Henry, there's so much up ahead for you - you'll make new friends, you'll have adventures you never dreamed of… andyou'll marry a beautiful woman who makes you smile and makes you laugh, a woman who drives you crazy and who you couldn't imagine living with or without. She's perfect for you, even though you would have pegged her as someone who'd love a person like Jake, but you need her just like she needs you.
You should see your kids (actually, you can. I enclosed pictures)—I won't give you names, but you've got two daughters; two beautiful, perfect daughters, S and D, and one handsome son, B.
They're just like you and Jake, well, S and D, at least—S being the more grounded, more reckless, protective one, and D being the more imaginative dreamer. They're so independent and brave. They barely need me and they've even—well, I can't say. I don't want to bias you—it might change what needs to happen, and I can't change that.
S is falling in love with this boy, and you can't do a thing about it. You won't approve of him right away, but he's a good kid. He'll take care of your oldest baby girl—she is seventeen now, as she's constantly reminding us. You'll make some mistakes with her. She is, after all, your first child, but you'll muddle through and survive with your sanity. One word of advice: get her an old car before she totals yours. She's got some serious road rage.
Speaking of the boy S is falling in love with…he's a good kid. You might pretend to disapprove, and you certainly won't like losing your baby girl, but he'll take care of her. He loves her as much as you love your wife.
D is thirteen now, and she couldn't be more precocious or imaginative. She's "best frenemies" (as she and S keep saying) with a boy who lives in Ferryport Landing, a boy who I'll call W. I wouldn't be surprised if they grew up and fell in love, although I desperately hope it doesn't happen for a long time. She is your baby girl, your youngest daughter, and you'll want to protect her.
B, on the other hand…B is six years younger than D, and twelve younger than S. Right now, he's seven, and you and your wife love him to death. The girls spoil him shamelessly. His bright red hair does rule his temper, but he's got a good heart.
Jake's going to be going through a lot of pain sometime in the future—you won't understand at the time, but support him and get him back on his feet. It'll be a reeling blow to the whole family…and you might be one of the few people who can help heal it.
Looking back, high school is nowhere near the best years of your life, although I will admit, they're pretty damn good. But your life only gets better, and we'll be able to die knowing that we did good.
There's a lot I wish we hadn't done, but looking back, I wouldn't change it. Those mistakes made us into who we are and they'll shape the past, present and future.
I wish you'd studied Spanish, though, and a typing class would have been helpful. And don't worry about the future, or anything. Just let it be—have a little faith in yourself, and I know you'll see what I mean.
I guess I'll see you in the mirror when you're a grown man, and until then, I'll just look at Mom's old pictures.
I don't think you'll see this letter, unless Jake and D figure out that time spell. But mostly, I wrote this letter because seventeen year old me (you? us?) needed the advice.
Best of Luck,
Henry
P.S.: Go hug Aunt Trixie and Aunt Rita every chance you get—and Dad, and Mom, and everyone you really care about.
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R&R