A Letter To My Son, Upon Leaving for College
Just before my son graduated from 8th grade, his teachers asked us to write a letter to our graduate to be opened in 4 years, upon high school graduation. Today, as my son packs up for his journey to college in Washington DC tomorrow, I thought I'd write a new letter. But when I read the one I wrote four years ago, I realized, there's little I'd change. With his permission, here it is, in hopes that you might also write a letter to a young person you love and believe in. I think they'll be glad to get it <3
June 11, 2013
Dear Eli,
It seems very strange to be writing to Future You. I don't want to think about the day you're opening this because it will mean four more years have passed, and Dad and I are getting ready to send you out into the world. While that is a wonderful thing, it will also be bittersweet. I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to hang out with you and to share so many stories and adventures together. Even getting lost on back roads was fun. C'mon, admit it.
My happiest memories are sitting on the deck reading together, especially the last Harry Potter book. I'm glad we were able to share the joy of good stories, good movies, heated political discussions, family jokes, "eh"(I wonder if we still say that) and so on. You make me laugh, you make me happy, and you make me very proud.
And now, here's where I get all cliché-moment on you. Sorry! BUT. I want you to know I'm also getting all sincere on you, too. So here goes…
You can do and be whoever and whatever you want to be. I believe this without reservation because you already have. You are special. When you were three, you started to recite Curious George verbatim in the back seat of the car because you were bored. When you were five, you stood up to a bully at the Hartland Library, when I was too shy and uncertain to do it myself. When you were 12, you taught yourself advanced math so you could be in Mr. Durgin's class for 8th grade algebra. When we've asked you personal questions about friends, you've respected their privacy and taught us valuable lessons about prying. You never compromise your standards. You always stick to your morals. You amaze me.
This is why I know that whoever and whatever it is you decide you want to be and do, it will be good. I know this because you are a kind, thoughtful soul. You believe in standing up for what's right, and treating everyone kindly. Sometimes this comes at a cost to you because those things aren't always the popular way. But your sense of humor and determination to be fair has always guided you forward and, in the end, served you best. I admire you so much for this. You are far more brave and courageous than I ever was at your age.
I don’t know what Seventeen-Year-Old You, who is reading this now, is like. My guess is you might be rolling your eyes by now. But I also think that inside, you might be smiling. I can also guess that Future You is just as kind and caring and thoughtful as the thirteen-year-old one who is upstairs, as I write this, working on his 8th-grade graduation speech.
So here we are. You, getting ready to start your life. And me, most likely wanting to grab your hand and whisper, "Don't go." And yet, at the same time, I want to send you off with a great big enthusiastic push. Because I know you are going to make this world better. So go, dear one. Go out in the world and make a difference now. It's time.
You recently said you were sad that you were a bit dark in seventh grade, but that now you feel more hopeful and optimistic. I hope you continue to believe in the light we all carry as you face a new step in your life. Your light shines so bright, people who know you can't help but let it kindle the light in themselves. You do this for me every day. Thank you.
As you walk out into the great unknown, know that you are never alone. We will always be here for you, in whatever way you need. We are cheering for you. We believe in you. We love you.
I am so proud and lucky to be your mom.
My son and I, volunteering for our local Habitat for Humanity together.
June 11, 2013
Dear Eli,
It seems very strange to be writing to Future You. I don't want to think about the day you're opening this because it will mean four more years have passed, and Dad and I are getting ready to send you out into the world. While that is a wonderful thing, it will also be bittersweet. I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to hang out with you and to share so many stories and adventures together. Even getting lost on back roads was fun. C'mon, admit it.
My happiest memories are sitting on the deck reading together, especially the last Harry Potter book. I'm glad we were able to share the joy of good stories, good movies, heated political discussions, family jokes, "eh"(I wonder if we still say that) and so on. You make me laugh, you make me happy, and you make me very proud.
And now, here's where I get all cliché-moment on you. Sorry! BUT. I want you to know I'm also getting all sincere on you, too. So here goes…
You can do and be whoever and whatever you want to be. I believe this without reservation because you already have. You are special. When you were three, you started to recite Curious George verbatim in the back seat of the car because you were bored. When you were five, you stood up to a bully at the Hartland Library, when I was too shy and uncertain to do it myself. When you were 12, you taught yourself advanced math so you could be in Mr. Durgin's class for 8th grade algebra. When we've asked you personal questions about friends, you've respected their privacy and taught us valuable lessons about prying. You never compromise your standards. You always stick to your morals. You amaze me.
This is why I know that whoever and whatever it is you decide you want to be and do, it will be good. I know this because you are a kind, thoughtful soul. You believe in standing up for what's right, and treating everyone kindly. Sometimes this comes at a cost to you because those things aren't always the popular way. But your sense of humor and determination to be fair has always guided you forward and, in the end, served you best. I admire you so much for this. You are far more brave and courageous than I ever was at your age.
I don’t know what Seventeen-Year-Old You, who is reading this now, is like. My guess is you might be rolling your eyes by now. But I also think that inside, you might be smiling. I can also guess that Future You is just as kind and caring and thoughtful as the thirteen-year-old one who is upstairs, as I write this, working on his 8th-grade graduation speech.
So here we are. You, getting ready to start your life. And me, most likely wanting to grab your hand and whisper, "Don't go." And yet, at the same time, I want to send you off with a great big enthusiastic push. Because I know you are going to make this world better. So go, dear one. Go out in the world and make a difference now. It's time.
You recently said you were sad that you were a bit dark in seventh grade, but that now you feel more hopeful and optimistic. I hope you continue to believe in the light we all carry as you face a new step in your life. Your light shines so bright, people who know you can't help but let it kindle the light in themselves. You do this for me every day. Thank you.
As you walk out into the great unknown, know that you are never alone. We will always be here for you, in whatever way you need. We are cheering for you. We believe in you. We love you.
I am so proud and lucky to be your mom.
My son and I, volunteering for our local Habitat for Humanity together.