a letter to my class.

Someday, long after we’ve all gone our separate ways, I’ll be rushing through another ordinary day. I’ll be cleaning out one of those long forgotten closets that I never really found the time for and that’s when I’ll find it. Or rather, that’s when I’ll rediscover it–a box filled with keepsakes.

Maybe my children will find me sitting on the floor, stopped in the middle of my work, and ask what I’m looking at. I’ll hold the yearbook up for them to see and as I flip through the pages, everything will come rushing back.

High school wasn’t the best four years of my life, but when I look back I won’t remember that. The bad times will only be remembered for how they made the good ones seem that much sweeter. I’ll nod as I recount the stories and say, “Yes, that happened, but it was worth going through,” or “Yes, my heart hurt then, but only because something much better was coming.” I’ll point to the faces and read over the names. As I remember each person, I’ll relive the memories.

“And then this one time…”

“And that was the first time…”

“And we all laughed because…”

My children won’t understand why I laugh at the pictures or why I grow quiet as I read through the signatures, but maybe someday they will. I’ll send them off to play, and I’ll say a silent prayer for each of you–missing you with all of my heart.

Maybe I’ll still be in touch with some of you, and I’ll call you up right then and there to reminisce about days long past. Eventually though, something will bring me back to real life–to the moment I’m in–and I’ll have to say goodbye to you all once more.

But as I tuck the yearbook away and close the closet door, I’ll smile. Because those memories will always be mine to keep. The people who were a part of them will always be there, safe in that chapter of my story. I’ll take comfort in knowing that these were people I loved dearly and that I wish them all the best.

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your friendly neighborhood scatter-brained artist, sweet tea enthusiast, and dedicated Publix shopper.

6 Comments

  1. That’s a thoughtful letter Jaime. You really have a talent for writing. Keep it up.

    Just a thought from someone who has run his 30, 40 and 50th high school reunion. Start a database for all of your class alumni and stay in contact with them so you can have their ever changing contact data. Keep photos and other memorabilia in a safe place because you will want it in the future.

    I’m assuming you will be involved in any future gatherings of your classmates. It’s not really an assumption because I know you will.

    Congratulations to you and be a good Gator. I am very proud of you.

    Love, Grandpa Earl

  2. O my word, Jaime. I’m almost crying. You are such a gifted person, and I hope you never lose sight of that. I can’t thank God enough that he put you not only in my path but also on the lives of every person you’ve touched. I’ll miss you!!

    1. You’re so sweet. Thank you(: I’m beyond grateful to be able to call you my friend. I’ll miss you too!

  3. Wise beyond your years. It’ll make you a dang good writer. Keep processing life through the keyboard or the pen. Even if no one ever reads some of the things you’ll pen, it will deepen and richen your experiences in life to relive them through your own crafted words. You are one to watch, my dear.

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