Dear Thomas,

Soooooo, I’m kind of peacing out of here pretty soon. I know you don’t like the University of Minnesota’s mascot but I’m going there anyway (go gophers). So here’s the deal: you have to hold down the fort now like I did for the two and half years before you were born. It’s no easy task but I think you can do it.

Before I go, here’s a couple things I never told you.

When I saw you try on the suit mom bought you for your first Teresian dance, I actually shed a tear. Don’t ask me why but I did. And now we can move on.

Yes, the deal was that I had unfettered access to the Prius as long as I carted you around without complaint for mom and dad. What you don’t know is that some of the time I volunteered to do it. I love driving around with you and listening to your music. And, on the rare occasion that our music tastes would overlap, we’d blast it and go hard until we got to Che’s house or wherever we were going. As long as I’m around, I’ll always come pick you up places.

The times we spent chilling, “spilling tea” in your room about our respective social circles, with me in the desk chair and you laying on your bed, were more meaningful to me than you could ever know.

Whenever it was we decided to start being friends — that was maybe the best thing to happen to us.

So here’s the thing you’ve got to remember after I leave — school and grades do not define you. Yeah, they’re important, but not as important as mom and dad claim. You can do anything you put your mind to. Whether you decide college is for you, take a gap year, go to a technical college, start working right after high school or raise sheep in Iceland, I am 100% behind you. The jury’s still out on whether I would support you as a professional gamer though, so stay tuned on that front. 

I make fun of you for being a “man for others” (shoutout to Rockhurst) but truthfully, I have seen you grow into a selfless guy. You help small girls escape mosh pits at concerts, hold the door open for people (thank you, sir) and charge the bluetooth speaker about 60% of the time.

Thanks for always listening to me rant about problems you couldn’t care less about and supporting my half-baked plots, whether they were smart or not. Thank you for always saying you like my nails every time I say “Thomas, look at my nails.”

Here’s a heads up though: the table doesn’t set itself. I do it before dinner. So be warned, that might fall on you now. Don’t forget to listen for the dog.

Love,

Lily

P.S. Woah check.