a collection of words

A,

Congratulations on being valedictorian. Even though the school won’t recognize it because of Ms. Murder (may she never become a Mrs. to keep her from all happiness), I recognize all of your hard work. I tried to handwrite your name under valedictorian in as many programs as I could but then Ms. Murder came after me with a knife (well, maybe that’s a lie, but hopefully you’ll keep this letter for a long time. I have this little spark of hope that looking back at it when you’re old, you’ll believe that story). Anyway, I hope you followed all of that.
I am writing you this letter to tell you that you will never be the same person that you were before you walked across that stage (or astroturf field in this case). Suddenly, things you cared so strongly about and drama that kept you up at night no longer matters. In fact, the further away you get from that graduation cap and gown, the less you’ll be able to remember the bad experiences, let alone the reasons behind them. You won’t remember the quarrels. Or the last time you cried. But you will remember the good times. You’ll remember driving all alone with the windows down and John’s voice complimenting the sunshine beaming down on your warm skin. Those moments where if you had to share them with anyone else, they wouldn’t be nearly as great.
However, you already know all of this. What you don’t know is that I admire you with everything I have. I only wish I could be as strong and confident as you seem to be. I wish I could laugh as loudly. I wish I could say what I meant. I wish I could tell a guy to kiss me. TELL being the key word in that sentence. What I really wish I had was your passion for life. Never, ever lose that. Or I might have to kill you.
I am so glad that we became such close friends. Who knew that I would ever hang out with the girl who cut her dolls? Even after she hit me in the face with a rake… bitch. I love that we may not talk every day or get to see each other very often but still pick up right where we left off every time were together. I never laugh so much around anyone else (perhaps why I haven’t met my soulmate). And no one else laughs as much at my jokes.
And now that I have an entire year of college under my belt and badass points for being non-Mormon for about three years longer than you, I will dispense my advice. Do not get caught up in the returned missionary whirlwind. I forbid you to date….okay, I know that’s never going to happen. Slut. Anyway, I know Mormon boys are nice. And smooth. But just remember, (and I know you already know this) you may be committed to this person for your entire life. While I would be fine getting married right out of college and being a stay at home wife, you have drive, ambition, POTENTIAL that is not meant to be wasted “rearing” children. Just leave the rearing to Brennen.
Do not settle. Not only with boys, but with friends also. Don’t force yourself to put up with a Rose when you’re better off by yourself. Surround yourself with people who are understanding and more so, accepting of your sexual desires. A friend who judges you based on your decisions is no friend at all.
W.W.M.M.D. What would Mrs. McCusker do? That should be our new motto in life. Mrs. McCusker was a great teacher because she saw the big picture. She didn’t give Bs in Editor’s Seminar. She never made a permanent judgment on anyone. No matter what wrong you committed, you could earn yourself a clean slate. What goes around comes around, and now, Mrs. McC is relaxing in her garden happily reading a book and drinking tea. Satisfaction and happiness comes to those who treat others kindly and it’s an example I am trying to follow in her path. If all goes as planned, thirty years down the road, Ms. Murder will be fat, bitter, out of work, and alone, eating top ramen in a rotting lazy boy watching the Jerry Springer Show (god forbid it ever go off the air).
Anyway, the reason for this letter is the potential of me not having a gift for you. You graduate in 26 hours and 31 minutes and I have no gift for you and no dolla dolla bills. You bought the damn planner I was going to give to you. So maybe, just maybe, I’ll get the chance to get you an extravagant gift between the time I get my paycheck tomorrow and the time you walk across that stage (hopefully in the sunlight, not the rain). I’ll miss you but I know we’ll keep in touch. Now it is your turn to call and tell me all of the bad decisions you made the night before…or maybe not. But I do expect good stories. And lots of dates, knowing you. Enjoy college. It will be the most fun four years of your life where you’ll find friendships that will last forever, a man you’re stuck with for eternity, and knowledge you’ll never forget.

Love, yes, LOVE,

W