I’ll be at camp on June 1 so I’m writing this letter early and queueing it up in case I don’t get a chance to talk to you on the day of.
MY MOM JUST GOT OUT HER BIRTH CERTIFICATE AND FOUND OUT SHES BEEN SPELLING HER NAME WRONG FOR 49 YEARS
Okay this is actually my life except it was sixteen instead of forty-nine.
It’s making me uncomfortable how together my life seems to be. Earlier this year, I didn’t have enough money to buy groceries and now I’m skimping and saving and will continue to do so for a very long time but at least I can buy my own groceries and make a go at this whole non-traditional employment route.
So I’ve got plans, I’ve got savings, I’ve even got sports bras! (This last is a very impressive feat considering buying sports bras for me means research and strategizing and saving and underwire and cross straps and three rows of hooks and a rocket launcher and buzz phrases like ‘high impact’ and ‘ultimate breathability’) And all of that togetherness makes me very uncomfortable.
I’m coming into this phase of my life where I am grateful. You know when you’re a kid and some family friend gives you a weird, throw-away gift (last minute, no thought put into it at all, more for them than for you?) and you have to pretend to be grateful? I always felt so awful when I got those gifts, not because of the gift but because of the lie.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve told so many lies I think I do it sometimes just to keep myself in practice, but their vulnerability in giving you something thus expressing their emotion for you made me feel uncomfortable for betraying it.
I graduated exactly one week ago. I was overwhelmed with the things my family and friends did for me. I was happy just to have them there and then there were cakes and cards and presents and money and I am grateful. And being grateful makes me grateful because I realize that I’m growing up.
When I was a kid, I wanted too much. I wanted what I didn’t have. I wanted a dog and a pool and a two story house and the kind of lives that my private school classmates had (I also still wanted all the things I already had like four siblings and a loud family). I wanted straight hair and I wanted to look like my sisters and I wanted to not want so many things because when you can’t want that many things and you can never hope to actually get half of them.
It gave me this desperate, ragged-at-the-edges, Never Enough feeling I couldn’t shake or fill. But now, for some reason like age or adulthood or gravity, I feel simply and completely and inexplicably Enough.
im going to open a literature-themed coffee/dessert shop called “Lord of the Pies” and some of the flavor names will be:
- the grape gatsby
- lime & punishment
- the adventures of blackberry finn
- the crepes of wrath
- the catcher in the pie
- war and quiche
- around the world in eighty buffets
- 20,000 leagues under the tea
- the call of the wildberry
OPEN IT AND I WILL COME.