Noah,

I know I say this at every age, but I can’t believe you’re another year older – and this time, you’re 20! It’s absolutely wild to me how quickly your childhood flew by. Sorry it’s been a decade since your last letter.

I am so insanely proud of you. You are, and will forever be, one of my greatest accomplishments.

You are brilliant, stubborn, talented, independent, and you love fiercely, though quietly. You and Kate have such an amazing bond, and that warms my heart more than you know. I also feel so grateful for the connection you and I have, and that despite the distance, our differences in communication and affection, and the fact that I’m your ::eye roll:: mom, you still wrap your arms all the way around me for a hug.

This Mother’s Day was the first time you told me you loved me. It was in writing, so I can cherish it forever and, trust me, I will.

You continue to excel at UCF. You get great grades, and computer science seems to come naturally to you. You’re dual enrolled in your master’s program, forever choosing to do things your own way and at breakneck speed. You’ve become quite nocturnal, probably fostered by the independence and comfort of your four walls at school.

You never seem to leave your space or your comfort zone but someday, SOMEDAY, I know you’ll spread your wings. Maybe you’ll even meet your person, someone who will undoubtedly bring you out of your shell a little. For now, most of your friends live on the internet, with just a few from high school you still see when you’re home. I’m not even sure you know all your roommates’ names!

Thirteen years ago, the day before your 7th birthday, you learned to ride a bike without training wheels. And though you got your license in August 2025, it wasn’t until a few days ago that you drove solo for the first time. I tracked you like a hawk on my phone, but you did amazing and gave me one more thing to be proud of you for.

You never stop surprising me, surpassing every hope and dream I could have for you, and steadily turning into an amazing man, even if your mom still dyes your hair crazy colors.

I love you fiercely and forever,

Mom
(Though you still call me Mommy when referring to me in family conversations, and I secretly love that.)

P.S. You may not carry him everywhere now, but Monkey does travel with you between home and school and still sleeps around your neck every night.