Page 8 of Library or Lattes?

The truth is, I barely know you. We met a handful of times when you were little, exchanged a few Christmas cards over the years, and that was it. I was never good at staying in touch. Never good at a lot of things, actually.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about you a lot.

Do you remember that Christmas when you were six or seven? I came down to Oak Falls for a visit and we went to that little coffee shop. You spent the whole time telling me about all the places you wanted to see. The Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, Disney World. You drew me a map on a napkin, with hearts marking every destination, dreams spilling out faster than you could draw them.

Your whole face lit up when you talked about it.

I recognized that look. Because I’d seen it in my own mirror.

Here’s what I need you to understand, Willa. I had dreams like that once. Different places maybe, but the same fire.

I don’t have kids. I don’t have anyone close enough to leave this money to. But I have you. A girl I barely know who drew me a map of her dreams on a coffee shop napkin all those years ago.

And that’s enough.

Your mom found everything she needed in Oak Falls. She was genuinely happy there, and that was her path. But you don’t have to follow it just because it was hers. You don’t have to choose small just because it’s familiar.

I know $25,000 is a lot of money. I’m sure there are practical things you could do with it, like school, bills, helping your dad. But here’s what I learned too late … There will ALWAYS be practical reasons not to chase what you want. There will always be someone who needs you more, something more urgent, a better time.

The “right time” is a myth, Willa. There’s only now.

So I’m taking the choice out of your hands.

This money is for one thing only. Seeing the world beyond Oak Falls. The world that little girl with the napkin map dreamed about.

I’m not telling you to leave tomorrow. Take your time. Plan it out. Go for a summer, a gap year, after college. Whatever works for you. But promise me you’ll go. Promise me you won’t let fear, or guilt, or other people’s expectations, dim that light I saw in those blue eyes.

Because here’s the truth that nobody will tell you. Choosing yourself isn’t selfish. Wanting more than what you were born into isn’t ungrateful. And leaving doesn’t mean you love the people at home any less.

The world is bigger, stranger, and more beautiful than Oak Falls could ever prepare you for. Go see it all. Drink coffee in Italian piazzas. Get lost in London. Stand in front of art that makes you cry. Meet people who show you new ways of being you. Become whoever you’re meant to be, not who everyone expects.

Then come home (if you want to) and live whatever life feels true.

You only get one life.

Now go be brave.

All my love,

Aunt Lisa May

P.S. If anyone asks why you’re going, you don’t need a reason that satisfies them. “Because I want to” is enough.

“Willa?” Pop’s words were a blur in the background as I stared at the piece of paper in my hands. “What is it?”

I looked up at him as the world came back into focus. Along with the smell of burning. “Pop, the microwave,” I warned him.

“Darn it!” Pop turned everything off, opened the back door, and came over to stand beside me. I handed him the letter, watched his face as he read it, and saw his mouth drop open.

“I had no idea.” Pop ran his hand over his stubbled jaw and looked at me. “We barely knew her. I should have made more effort after Mom …” He shook his head. “But this. This money, Willa—”

“I know, we could use it for repairs, or school, or something like that.” I smiled, trying to take away the crease that had deepened on his forehead.

“No, Willa, that’s not what I was going to say at all. This money, it’s wonderful. And it’s all for you, honey.”

I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t get my head around the fact that this was real life. That I’d been given $25,000 to see the world.

“But I like it here …” My words trailed off. Did it sound like I was trying to convince myself?