Sarahbeth

Dear

Nightly Thought,

You just kind of came to me in a puff of realization:

This whole life thing, it’s kind of a big deal.

As grand and simple as it is to think that it’s all just a time for play and a child like mosey across experiences and dandy fields, it’s meant to be a challenge. We’re supposed to walk out of here feeling like we took the feeble being we were gifted and shoved them into the back of a car, drove them to a cliff, pushed them over the edge, taught them to swim, taught them be braver than the waves who vainglorious attempted to drag them beneath the white tipped surface, and made them into a seafaring soul with sunburnt skin, calloused hands, and a captain’s hat with stories to tell. We should walk out of life feeling like we conquered our demons and left behind the dead weight of our faults so we could fly as high into heaven as we possibly could.

Life is one of the greatest things we’re given.

It doesn’t deserve to be half done.

Dear

Leader,

Tonight I sat in the plastic, blue, chair of a third grader while talking with an old friend and, despite the displacement of a few decades between us, it was one of the greatest conversations I’ve had in a while. Among the giggling and deep doctrinal stuff:

We talked about you. I hope you don’t mind. (You probably do)…but—
My goodness! Whenever I talk about you shivers bounced between my hands and my heart! Then those shivers turn into this energy that makes me just want to break out into an outrageous song and perform some blissful dance number orchestrated by guys in tall furry hats and band uniforms!
She just smiled and laughed at my misproportioned excitement over your existence seeing as it’s quite apparent that you and I are just friends. Notwithstanding, I told her about your adorable adoration for all things family. I told her how selfless you are. I told her how disillusioned you are for being unconvinced of your magnificence. I told her how I have to restrain from shouting “let me be your favorite colour!!!!” almost every time we talk. (Which you did agree to at some point—for the record—but you didn’t know what it meant.)

Anyways. Yes. You. You’re a thing. A thing I’m quite unexplicatably drawn to for many unreasonable reasons, but…. just so you know…
I’d follow you wherever you wanted to go.

Dear

Stork,

You found the right place and I can’t thank you enough. I got the greatest mother for someone like me. I’ll spare the general recipients of this letter an unnecessary rant about the magnificence of my mother, but I will say, take a moment to acknowledge how cool my mom is. We need not mention the fact that she holds exotic animals in her spare time, instead we could look at her success as a strong independent white woman and a super model hot babe and I think the record stands clear.
She didn’t choose the thug life.
It chose her.

So thank you. Job well done. You deserve a raise.