On her way out to work, Pam stops at the mailbox to pick up yesterday’s mail. She tosses the sale papers and small pile of envelopes onto her passenger seat. Roy had to go in early today to get a shipment out, so she drives herself in, blasting her Guilty Pleasures mix CD, singing along to showtunes and ABBA, and though she won’t admit it to anyone, a couple of Hilary Duff songs.  

As she opens her car door in the parking lot, she rifles through the stack of mail. She finds a couple of credit card offers and a card from her mom. She takes that one with her and goes up to the second floor.

At her desk, she opens the envelope and finds a card with a baby dressed as a chicken.  “Hey, sweet girl, this came in the mail for you. I picked out the card because I know how much you love the idea of babies dressed in costumes. Love you, Mom. ” Pam laughs. She has told her mom about the scary poster Angela got for Christmas. She pulls out a second envelope enclosed in the card and slits it open.

________________________________________________

12/16/96

Dear Pam,

            Hello from your 16 year old self. It feels weird to write that, but I’m sure it will be really cool to read this in 10 years when I (you?) are 26. I am writing this from the auditorium, my 2nd favorite spot in the school. If the art room was empty this hour, I’d be there. Mrs. Barnett trusts us to actually do this assignment wherever we want within the school. This is our last big assignment for Communications before Christmas break. We’re supposed to write about hopes and dreams, favorite memories, anything we’d like to reminisce about in 10 years.  Then Mrs. Barnett will keep these for a decade and mail them to us.

            I have lots of favorite memories that I hope I’ll reminisce about in 10 years. Illustrating my best friend Sarah’s (remember her???) story in art was so neat. It made me feel like I was really, really good at something. Mr. Calhoun said that I shone, which was one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten. That was my favorite in-school memory. My favorite after-school memory was working on the musical with Sarah, Seth, Jon, Melissa, Kari and the rest of the Stage Crew Posse.  I’ll never forget our Coke drinking game during opening night. I’ve never had to go to the bathroom more before or hopefully since. That was the night I won the Silent But Deadly award at the after party. Apparently, it means I am quiet and then when I talk, I’m really funny. Thanks, jury of my peers! My dad likes that his little girl got a fart-like award, and he thinks it’s hilarious.

            My favorite memory of this class was going on the field trip to Camp Pinewood for the day in October. I feel like we all really bonded, which was the intention. The best part was when we had to go through the giant “spider web” without touching any of the ropes! Once someone went through an opening, no one else could go through. Lucky me, since I am the shortest girl in the class, Josh and Roy had to pick me up and pass me over everyone’s heads. Roy almost dropped me, but then he caught me. It was slightly scary, but really hilarious. Somewhere, there’s a picture of me screaming/laughing as they pass me through that Mrs. Barnett took. She denies it exists, but I know the truth, ha!

            I can’t believe I’ll ever be 26. 16 is so much fun! By the time I’m 26, I hope that I’ve been to Paris, California, Seattle and Toronto (again).I love to travel. I hope that I’ve graduated from college with some sort of degree. Maybe by 26, I’ll have figured out what I want. Right now, I think I might want to be an art teacher or an illustrator. Then I can earn money and share my passion. I feel like I should know what I want to do, and I sometimes feel a little bad that I don’t know exactly what to do. Do I ever figure it out, Older Pam?

            I wonder if I will be married by 26? It’s a scary thought. My mom had Jeff when she was 26 and had already been married for 3 years. By the time she was 30, she had 2 kids. Yow. I feel kind of weird because I’ve never had a real boyfriend, except for Jamie Walters in 8th grade, and that was only for 2 weeks. We didn't even ever kiss. Sometimes I think it's pathetic that a 16 year old hasn't had her first kiss. My lovely mom keeps telling me not to worry, that someone will discover how great I am, and it might not be who I expect it to be. I’m not really worried too much right now, but I kind of wonder, do I ever stop worrying about it? If I had my way, my future husband would be like this: hard working, adventurous, fun-loving, a good cook, easygoing, and have a great sense of humor. I want to laugh a lot! My mom and dad are a good example of what I want to be. I like that they are friends. My mom says it’s important to be friends. I hope I get a boyfriend in college, at least. Jeff met Melanie on their first day in college, and they’re really cute together. I miss my big old brother.

All right, I’m running out of time. Words of future advice for 2006 Pam from 1996 Pam: Be happy. Be healthy. Figure out what to do with your hair. Quit whispering with Sarah at the movies. Be a good sister to Jeff. Take care of Mom and Dad. Love yourself.

Love,
Pamela Jean Beesly
          __________________________________________________

She puts the letter down on her desk. She’s so happy to have gotten it, so happy to remember the things she had almost forgotten. She remembers the day she wrote it, how excited she was to seal up this time capsule of sorts. Yet, a part of her is sad when she reads it. Has her life turned out the way she wanted it to?  She hears herself telling Jim, “I’m fine with my choices!” and she brushes it out of her mind. 

            As though he can sense her thinking about him (or maybe because he always visits her), Jim walks up to the desk and asks her if she’s okay. She smiles wanly and says that she is, that she just got a  time capsule letter in the mail and isn’t quite sure if she’s done as much with her life in the ten years as she had wanted to.  He looks thoughtful, and somehow, she knows he’ll make her feel better. Then he looks at her again and suggests that she write a new one, seal it up, give it to him, and he’ll mail it to her in ten years.

Later that day, the forbidden thought that maybe he could just hand it to her in ten years crosses her mind, and she pulls out a sheet of paper. She thinks maybe she will take him up on his offer.

            Oh, God, this hurts. Pam squeezes her eyes shut and opens them, tries to breathe normally as her mother wraps an arm around her waist and leads her up the front steps. Her dad props the door open, searching her face with his eyes. She smiles at him and he smiles back, relieved, holding the door open for Jim, who has his arms full.  Her mom gently leads her up the stairs and into the bedroom.

            The sheets have never felt so good, crisp and cool, and Pam is so happy to be home. The hospital bed did not have a feather duvet, or three pillows, or Jim, for that matter. He is beside her, sinking down onto the bed and kissing her. “I’m glad you’re home” he whispers, and she nearly cries.

            Her parents lean over and say goodbye. “We’re going to the hotel, we’ll leave you alone,” says her mom, stroking Pam’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re all right, my baby.”

            Her dad kisses her forehead once more as her mom kisses Jim’s cheek. “Call us if you need anything, Pammy,” her dad says, straightening up.

            They leave and Pam sinks back onto her three pillows. ‘Can I get you anything?” Jim asks, looking concerned. Pam considers the question and smiles. “Actually, yes,” she says, “Do you remember where the letter is that I asked you to hold for me?”

            “I’d like it, if you don’t mind finding it. It’d be a good day to read it,” she says.

            “But it’s only been seven years. Do I have to remind you of the rules?” he asks, already getting up and crossing to his dresser. She watches as he opens the third drawer down, rifles beneath the clothes, and pulls out her letter. “Jim, sometimes we have to break the rules,” she says, “besides, I gave myself veto power.”

            He hands her the envelope, which reads “Do Not Open Until March 5, 2016” Below, in very small print, “P.J.B. has complete power to revoke whenever she feels the absolute need. Trust her, she knows” is written.

            Jim goes into the bathroom as she opens the letter.  She reads it, one hand on the warm blankets beside her.

            ________________________________________________

3/5/06

Dear Pam,

Hello from your 26 year old self. Hopefully this letter will actually reach you. I have some doubt about the reliability of the letter carrier (of course, this is just written in case he tries to sneak a peek).  Not that I think he will, but still, one can’t be too careful.

All joking aside, I hope you are doing well. If it’s been ten years, then I hope 2016 is all you hoped it would be, and I hope you had a good Back to the Future Part 2 party last year. You know you’ve wanted to do that since you saw that movie. If it’s before 2016, then you must have had a great reason to open the letter, in which case, yay! Better start planning the Back to the Future party.

I hope life has sorted itself out for you, and I hope that you’ve played an active role. Reading the letter this morning made me feel sad, as though my life is out of my control, and that I am at the mercy of others. Even Older Pam, I hope you are more in control of your life.

I hope you have a good job that does not contain the words ‘Dunder-Mifflin’ in the description. If you are still there, then I hope you’ve gotten a hell of a pay raise. You better have signed up for art classes. It’s in your blood, and you never feel right unless you can have a creative outlet. I hope you’ve found a good career that puts all of your skills to use. We’ve worked too hard to ignore them. 

If you are with someone who is not Roy, then I hope you’re happy with him. I am proud of you for being strong enough to get over Roy, and I hope New Guy is as good to you, plus more. I trust you, Pam, don’t let me (us?) down. 

If New Guy is Jim, then wow. That’s a story I would like to see. I hope that he is as lovely to you as he has been to me the past four years. He’s been my savior at work, and I hope that I can tell him how much he means to me and how much he’s helped me. I hope Jim still believes in you, and acts like you can do no wrong. It’s been so hard for me to repress these feelings that I have for him, and I feel so guilty about Roy and possibly hurting him. If Jim is The One, then I hope you let Roy down gently, before things get out of hand. With Jim, sometimes I don’t know if I’m in love with him, or if we’re just best friends. I hope it’s clearer to you in the future. I also hope for your sake that he is still smokin’ hot.

Above all, no matter what, I hope you are happy. Pamela Beesly has always been a happy person, and I hope it continues. I hope you take life by the reins and remember that the whole point of having dreams is so that they can come true.

Love,
Pamela Jean Beesly

________________________________________________

She lowers the letter onto her lap. She has tears in her eyes, but she’s happy. Jim peeks out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. He looks concerned and crosses to the bed, tossing the towel onto a blue chair. “Is everything all right?” he asks anxiously. She smiles, and he looks relieved. He sinks carefully next to her. “Tearjerker?” he asks, and she laughs.

“No, not really. I just realized my life is so much happier than it was when I wrote this,” she says, “I kind of wrote myself a list, and I’ve accomplished everything on it.”

Jim smiles, and she knows it’s because he loves when she’s successful. “You’ve done all you wanted to do?” he asks, smiling down at the warm little bundle safely resting between them.  “Yeah, all except the very last thing, but that can wait a few years until I recover from this one,” she says, stroking the baby’s soft cheek, "And I'm glad you're still smoking hot."

            Jim grins again, and squeezes her hand, and she smiles at her men and is very, very happy.