A word of gratitude,
To my best friend, who has rescued me from more stupid mistakes and sh!tty situations than I care to count. Who has sent me texts when I’m at my lowest saying “Hey, this song reminded me of you; miss you,” and totally turned my day around. Who I have shared more road trips with than is likely recommended. Who I have shared more secrets with than anyone else. Who I love more than anything.
To my little brother, who always makes me laugh, even if his jokes are often rude and usually about me. Who I can meet with in solidarity over the holidays and hunker down into the trenches with for extended family time. Who will get out of bed to walk the dogs with me – and complain about it the entire time – but secretly I’m pretty sure he wants to be there.
To the beach friends I work with every summer, for being the most riotous, beautiful and incredibly loyal group of people I have ever met and for always leaving a standing invitation out for one more. Thank you for giving me a place to belong.
To my favorite professor, who inspired me to research, to write and to get my ish together and published. For being there through MLA formatting and John Keats analyses. For hugging me when I accidentally burst into tears with her after my final and told her just why I’d had trouble focusing all semester.
To the boy who’s still texting me and making the corners of my mouth tug up every single time.
To the first person who told me I could do it, for giving me hope.
To the first person who told me I couldn’t, for giving me spite. (And frankly, who’s to say which voice was stronger?)
For the chance to learn, as a woman, in a country and at a university that, when you think about the rest of history, were very opposed to me doing so for a very long time.
For the opportunity to express myself – academically, artistically, argumentatively, however – through writing and even have the occasional audience.
For the way the air feels after a thunderstorm.
For the people who smile at you with their eyes, even if you don’t know them.
For that strange, jumpy energy you get on certain nights, where you can’t stay home and you can’t sit still.
For all my friends.
For all my opportunities.
For my tomorrow.
For yellow leaves. For distant music. For gray, foggy days. And even for the fire in the fireplace as I write this from Graham Memorial.