Hey, Tío,

It's me, Mirabel. I don't know if you remember me, but it's okay if you don't. It's been a while, hasn't it?

We don't talk about you much. Sometimes, it feels like I've never known you but I should, like hearing stories about a long ago friend or a far away love. But I must have known you, right?

You didn't leave until I was five, so...

Well, anyway, a lot happened when I was five, and I guess when you push yourself to forget most of it, you do.

I didn't mean to forget you, though. I'm sorry. If I stretch my memory, sometimes I think I see you – picking me up or singing with Tía or dancing with Mamá. It's so weird to remember things that bring so much happiness and sadness all at once and to not even be sure they're real.

But I guess love is as real as you make it? Like the best part of imagination – showing the world what you can do and bringing it to life, bringing joy to the world just because.

Maybe that's why sewing comes to me so easily. I can carry the best of my family with me everywhere, or most of them, at least. And that's why I writing. I've been working on this skirt. It's a little bit out there, but so am I, and I have something to show off everyone...except you.

No matter what anyone says, you're still part of us. They try to erase you, but I see it when your name comes up – fear for you, anger at you, grief. It's still love. Buried maybe. Hidden, tucked away, but still there. I saw it a lot today, but I knew I would. Mamá tried not to let me see, but she'd been crying before breakfast. Tía, too, I think, but she hides her tears with lots of thunder.

I'm not trying to make you sad...just...

It might be the wrong way to say it – and I say a lot of things the wrong way – but they still love you and miss you and want you to come home. They need you to know that. Maybe you need you to know that.

But I need to know you. What you like and what you don't and what you do for fun. Dolores says you used to read to her a lot. Lots of mystery books, and I guess I can see the appeal. She doesn't read as much anymore. She says she doesn't want to get too far ahead of you.

So, should I add a book for you?

I might. Maybe an open book because your story isn't finished?

And no, don't argue with me that it closed ten years ago. This family loves you too much to let that be the end. It might take them a while to pick up where they left off, but they will, and there will be a next chapter.

I promise.

They won't forget you forever. They can't. You love them too much to let it happen.

I'll sketch out my skirt and show you later. Just wanted to get your thoughts.

Love you! Happy birthday!

- Mira

A/N: One of my oldest head-cannons is that Mirabel found a way to commemorate Bruno on the triplets' birthday every year. I imagine her to be a pre-teen here, maybe really hitting her stride with sewing/embroidery and planning an early version of the skirt we see her wear in the movie. I could also see her being into journaling more than any of the other sobrinos, and depending on the day, that could be an actual diary entry or something more like this - a letter to whomever had the biggest impact on her day. I also feel like she did this a lot with Bruno, potentially drawn to the mystique of the other family outcast.

Hope everyone who celebrates it had an awesome Thanksgiving!

Would love to hear your thoughts! -WW