Dear Columbia Law School Girls,

There must have been something in the water or the Strokos fat-free tuna we consumed with wild abandon in those good old pre-mercury-paranoia CLS days. Because between us, we now have six baby girls (and another any day). No boys allowed.

Who would have guessed back then when we were busy making final exam outlines (okay, you guys were busy making them and I was busy thinking up artful ways of asking you to share them with me) that we would collectively produce more than a half-dozen baby girls in the next half-dozen years?

I have never regretted going to law school. Never. Columbia was a fantastic school and I learned a ton there. I learned all about Constitutional Law and Evidence. I learned about all of the bars along Amsterdam Avenue. I learned how to answer a question about a case I hadn’t read. I learned how to spot a group of girls among the masses who would prove life long friends and fellow mommies.

Now let’s do everything in our power to make sure our girls don’t become lawyers. Just kidding. Kind of.

To life, law, and little girls! I love you all.

Insecurely yours,
Aidan

Dear Danielle (White Hot Truth teller),

Thank you. For listening to me ramble. For encouraging this riled-up rookie about the possibilities that are endless as long as you dare to dream. For introducing me to two brilliant women Gretchen Rubin and Kelly Hoey, with whom I hope to spend time and trade ideas going forward.

For too long, I thought women were essentially catty creatures because I was one of them. But now, I realize that there is true camaraderie to be enjoyed and support to be gained.

Your words inspire and enlighten. Your dreadlocks remind us that you are not business as usual. Your website is a constant source of nourishment for the soul, that enigmatic item too many of us sell, or ignore, or forget.

I can’t wait for your next book. Please come start some metaphorical fires here in NYC!

Insecurely yours,

Aidan

Dear Anonymous D,

I’m sure many ILI readers read your comments and think we are friends. They would probably be shocked to know that you stumbled upon my blog randomly. But I am thrilled you have.

This is the beauty of the Internet. The rueful randomness. The fact that two total strangers can bump into each other in invisible terrain. The fact that with the stroke of a key, words and ideas and emotions and confessions can travel from here to there. And from there to here.

We share Kyle and a passion for our kids. We are both experimenting with a new and delightful drug: honesty.

In my darker hours when I wonder why I am doing this, why I am blogging, why I am putting myself out there, I think of you. A person, a successful and good person it seems, who has taken time out of her busy days to read what I have to say. And to say something back. And when I think of this, I realize that it is all worth it. Very worth it.

Thank you for your web friendship. What do you say we talk life and law over a glass of wine one of these days?

Insecurely yours,
Aidan

Dear Skin,

I know it’s a lot to ask after three decades, but now would be a good time to thicken a bit. You see, I’ve recently started a blog called ILI. And blogging = putting a small percentage of myself and my words out there. And many people out there like it, but some people seem to hate it and me and everything I have to say. These people love to point out just how my elite education has failed me. They love to point out the typos. And I am expert at pretending that these things, these odd, but pointed jabs of criticism don’t faze me, but the truth is they do. I get sad. And I complain to Husband. And sometimes I even cry. And then I buck up and console myself with a string of good well-worn cliches. Like it’s all par for the course. It comes with the territory. Yada yada yada. I tell myself to grow a thick skin. But you don’t seem to listen. I will give you some time. If you could fatten up by next summer when BLACKBERRY GIRL is released, that would be fine. And if you want to learn how to tan too, I wouldn’t object.

Insecurely yours,

Aidan

P.S. Congrats on being the largest organ! Nice work.

Dear Jimmy,

You are a troublemaker already. Tucked inside C’s belly, kicking and punching and turning somersaults, keeping her in NYC while the rest of us are fly-fishing miles away. And we wish your Mommy and Daddy were here with us now, catching fish, taking in the views, eating cheese curds.

But I think ahead to next year. You will be almost one. I can see you now – bright blue eyes, a mini-mess of blond hair, a vast and undeniable smile, stumbling around on that old wooden porch, reaching for your Daddy’s rods. Playing with your cousins.

You better stay cozy in that belly until I come home.

Insecurely yours,
Aunt Aidan