An Open Letter to my Future Stepdaughter

Dear future stepchild of mine,

At age 21 I decided I didn't want kids. And before that, I decided I'd never date someone with children.

When I met your dad I was lost. He was charming and a hopeless romantic (my two favorite things). The first thing I told my mom about him was, "I have rules." When she asked me my rules I told her, "I don't date people with kids." To which she replied, "You're 25 and from the South. It'll be hard not to find someone who doesn't already have children." 

The background of how your dad and I ended up together on this endless road called life isn't what this letter is about. Not entirely, anyway.

You and I met rather quickly. But given that your father and I fell quickly it was inevitable. Twenty-six was already going to be difficult. I'd just come back from China and I was readjusting to living in America, The South and my hometown again. When you're 20-something you'll understand this more but for now I just want you to understand why I love you and why it is all worth it.

In China, I fell in love with a girl named Wendy. You point to her photo and call her my "China girl." Well, that "China girl" taught me how to see joy in chaos. In a round about way, she taught me how to love you. In a classroom full of four year olds who don't speak your language you learn a lot about patience, love and endurance. You learn that children don't react well to shouting. You learn they respond tremendously well to love and nurturing. And lastly, you learn that if you survive a class of four-year-olds who speak a different language that you can survive battle.

You've been the biggest battle of my life. Not you specifically, but all that you bring to the table. And before I go any further, I want you to know that none of that is your fault. You are a child. You are to be young and naive and innocent for as long as this world allows it.

I am not and never will be your mom. I am simply lucky enough to be a bonus parent figure in your life. I have to bite my tongue and respect your mom and dad's decisions. I have to do my best to support them both as they raise you. None of which is easy. However, I will always love you as my own, treat you as my own and mold you as my own because if I had a child with four parents I would want the same for them. 

You are beautiful, entertaining, funny, caring and wise beyond your seven years. You're also extremely talkative and long winded, which wears me out. You're just like your father in so many ways, which can also wear me out. But then there are so many ways you're like your father that make me love you more. When you're with us I have to remind myself you're only seven. Which means you do still need someone to fix your meals, wash your clothes, brush your hair, tell you to brush your teeth, shower, etc. Patience has always been my weakest trait. After teaching I thought I'd mastered patience enough to handle anything but I was wrong. You're still teaching me even when you're not around.

With you comes great responsibility, pressure and sacrifices. You're not mine, but, like my students in China, you are mine when you're in my care. The responsibility falls on me and it's a lot to take in as a non-parent. But you are and always will be worth it. Your innocence shines through all of the bad times. As adults, we see things in a different light. Adults tend to see the worst possible scenario or outcome, whereas kids see the tiniest glimmer of hope. You're able to see it because you haven't been exposed to the ways of the world yet. My greatest wish for you is that you never know how cruel the world can be even when it surrounds you. 

I know I will make comments out of haste, anger or stress. I know they will hurt your ears and steer your thinking, and I am apologizing now for all of those future moments. Our job as the adults are to be positive, guiding, understanding, encouraging, honest, polite and all the other things that make people loved. It is our job to protect you from the demons we fight ourselves. Unfortunately we are only human. We will yell. We will pout. We will give silent treatments. We will say mean things about each other. We will do mean things to each other. We will forget our manners. We will not always be friends. Please know none of those will ever be your fault! 

We will also tell you what to do. We will correct you when you're wrong. We will encourage your creativity. We will ask questions. We will answer questions. A lot of questions. We will tell you "no." We will train, educate and inspire you.  We will take the best parts of ourselves and bestow those things to you. We will mess up, but we promise to always try again. 

Your dad chose me knowing I would have a part in influencing your life. Your dad wants me to play a part in how you think, how you behave and how you see the world (hopefully as open-minded as me). Like me, your biggest flaw will be your giant, naive heart, but I promise to always be there when that heart is disappointed, hurt, sad or angry.  


Your dad and I promise to teach you how to be the best person you can be. You will know that the world is not fair. You will understand that you only get what you put into this world. You will know the worth and pride that come with hard work. We will spoil you and treat you, but you will also know things must be earned and worked for. You will know that you are lucky to have so many people who love you. You will know that although life can be hard there is always someone somewhere having a harder day.



When your dad and I got engaged, it meant I got engaged to you, too. I got to choose whether or not to be your bonus mom, and it is a choice I'd make a hundred times over and am honored to make. Thank you for loving me, little buttercup. I hope for the brightest of futures for us. I vow to continue to inspire, enlighten and educate you in the ways of the world. I vow to always be honest to you. I vow to be the best half to your dad so he can be the best whole for you. 

I love you!

"Don't let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace." - Dalai Lama

The Edge of Wanderlust

The last several months were hard. Emotionally I was all over the place in true bipolar fashion. I took numerous 360 degree spins. 

I'm known for being the wild card be it in my friend, family or work circle. I will often say exactly what's on my mind and censor myself for no one. 

As a temporarily retired drifter, I often feel like I live a double life in many ways. Amie abroad is spontaneous, wild, carefree and so on. Amie back home is all of those things, but with responsibilities, commitments and a reputation. 

Back home people expect my quirky, odd, eccentric ways. However, they also expect me to calm down, keep a steady job, get married and start a family. No matter where we come from, wherever our hometown, there are expectations. In hometowns people expect us to do certain things, have certain things and communicate with certain people. This is hard, for anyone who has ever spent significant amounts of time away from their hometown, you know the struggle is real. 

One of my favorite things about living abroad was I was exactly who I wanted to be in every moment of every day. The odds of ever seeing 99% of the humans you met abroad again were slim. 

It is hard to know I will always be Amie, but it is harder being Amie and knowing I can't always be "Wander Woman." 

When I was traveling, people were fascinated with every aspect of my life: what I ate, wore, saw, smelt. It never dawned on me how extraordinary it all was. I was just blowing my savings, making memories, avoiding commitment and having a damn good time. It wasn't abnormal to me. 

Since I came home I've gradually felt I've become less special, less unique, less adventurous. I know this isn't accurate, but it's affected me in ways I never expected. I felt I had nothing to write about, nothing to take photos of and nothing to tell stories about except, "that one time when I was ...." 

As humans, we want it all. I want to be in a different city every day eating ethnic foods and meeting strangers. I also want to marry the man of my dreams, buy a house, start a family, create a home and have my own children to inspire and give wings to.  

It is difficult and beyond any words to explain the value of the self I found while traveling, exploring and disregarding all responsibility and consequences. It is hard to have lived and loved in so many places. It is hard to be homesick in your hometown. It is hard to feel out of place and lost. And it is  hard to feel like you are losing the person you worked so hard to become. 

In January, when one year hit, I became aggressively homesick for China. Jasmine got married and is expecting a baby. All of which I'll miss. I also missed so much more with other friends that isn't my business to share. I wanted to go back, yet I wanted to stay here. And so began the process of racking my brain and getting stuck in my head wondering WTF was going on? Was I stuck? Was I happy? Was I alone? Was I misunderstood? Was I ever going to leave the country again? Was I ok with this?

I let life get in the way. Worse, I was slowly slipping back to the girl I left behind here five years ago. I let people control my behavior, I let my job stress me out, and I let people's negativity get under my skin.

I pushed and neglected someone who loves me in the way I've only ever dreamt about because I was afraid. I fought the inevitable because I was scared. I cried and yelled until I finally took a breath and stepped back. 

So here's my decision. Of course I'm staying. I'm staying home for as long as myself deems it necessary. For as long as myself prospers. For as long as myself loves. For as long as myself can fight the urge to run and fly. I've clipped my wings and am no longer a bird in search of winter harborage. I had my happy place all along, but I needed to leave it for a bit to grasp my own understanding of home and the knowledge that home is a feeling, not a place. Home can be tangible or intangible. Home can and will be wherever I am.

I will forever be homesick for China and the aggressiveness that comes with that will dwindle over time. I will lose complete touch with some of the most impactful people I've ever known. Life will go on, though. 

This is what I've clanged to the last few months. You'll always miss some one you met. A place you've been. An act you did. A thing you saw. A food you ate. A holiday celebrated. A wonder you witnessed. But above all of these, you'll miss who you were most. Travel changes us all, but the one common factor is we're never who we always are during or after having seen the stars in a place not our origin. 

Travel is a release; physically, mentally, emotionally and for some, even spiritually. You see, hear and do things in a different light. We embrace in things out of our comfort zones. We talk to more strangers than we'd be comfortable speaking to in our own town of residence. We look at the ordinary of others in an extraordinary way. We can realize the luxuries of others and also the luxuries of our own afford.

By the time I'd reached China, I'd given up on finding the purpose within my journey. I'd simply continued traveling because I could. Also, I didn't realize at the time that an adventure is only complete once you've made the journey, not reached the destination. The journey, in fact, is the destination. 

We all know my decision to stay was well made when I returned home last December, however, I've only recently come to terms with it. I will never wonder what I missed out on.  I will never wonder what I could've done instead. Ever. I did everything I wanted to do and more for years.

More than a year ago, when I left China I wanted to write this blog but it never quite fell into place until now. Now that I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be and am building a life with exactly who I'm supposed to build a life with. 

My adventures will be different from now one. They won't necessarily include backpacks, water bottles and picture maps. Adventure is also a feeling. A feeling I plan to hang onto a little tighter and not let life take over. 

Life will always challenge and push us. That is the sole purpose of existence. We will struggle more than once to keep intact who we are and I think that's ok as long as we always find our way back.