Letter to my Younger Self
Dear Matthew,
Welcome to fifth grade picture day. Don’t worry, you’ll grow
out of that portly face of yours
and bloated listed weight on your ID card. But it will be a bummer that you
decide to play video games and eat a hefty after-school snack every day. It
won’t be until later that you realize how much more you’re capable of.
You’ll be off to middle school in a couple months, and that
seems kind of scary. It’s a new place and as the oldest child, you’re the first
one in the family to experience that schooling change. While you’ll
subconsciously block out those three years, certain details will prevail.
Playing baseball when instead you were supposed to be practicing tennis during
P.E; rocking out on the saxophone in band (don’t worry—you’ll kill the solo for
Gimme’ Some Lovin at a concert in 8th grade); being the upstart
dodgeball team in Riverside Middle School’s first dodgeball tournament—making the
semi-finals down two players among your team of five (or at least that's how you'll remember it later on); Making an 8 on a science
quiz and telling yourself that anything close to that can’t ever happen again.
You’ll grow up a little bit in those three years, and leave thinking that
you’re a big shot and that you’d never have to step foot in a middle school
again. You’ll be wrong on both accounts.
You’ll see that you’re not that big man on campus once you
get to high school. Sure, you’ll still be a bigger
kid than others your age, but you’re the lowest on the totem pole. It will
take you some time to assimilate into that high school culture, but you’ll get
there eventually.
You’ll make even greater memories in high school, or perhaps
they’re just fresher memories. You’ll make some terrific friends, friends that
last through at least college. In fact, folks you didn’t spend much time with
in high school will become your best friends away at school. You’ll join YIG
and play football with friends on Sundays and slouch through AP English, only
to make a 4 of 5 on the end of year exam. That’s still not a good example to
set. In one of your funnier moments, you’ll dress up as a soccer referee in a
spirit week fundraiser day senior year—giving random classmates yellow and red
cards, running through the halls screaming “goooaaall” and blowing a vuvuzela.
When you think about getting those little black shorts that really highlight
your quads, don’t fluctuate on that decision. Go for it.
You’ll decide you want to attend Clemson University, and
that will turn out to be maybe the best decision of your life. You’ll debate
attending the University of South Carolina, but you can leave that option open
for your brother down the road.
Your time in Clemson will help define the person you become.
You’ll make some amazing new friends, and revisit earlier friendships
previously un-pursued. Those guys will be your best friends during your four
years on campus. You’ll even give yourselves a self-devised name sophomore year
and call yourself a “crew”. You’ll latch
on with two of that crew, adding in a Drew, and spend the next two years
enjoying living with those fellas. You’ll live in a house by the lake and start
thinking about what you’re going to do past the Clemson phase of your life.
Then one day you’ll blink and you won’t be in Clemson anymore.
One day you’ll wake up and be back in your old room at your parents’ house and
Clemson will seem farther and farther in the rear view mirror every day. No
more walking across campus on a cool morning as the dew glistens and the fog
rises over Bowman Field. No more orange everywhere you look. No more mopeds. No
more.
No longer will you be among others your age, jovially
sauntering through all that college has to offer.
You’ll be among 12- and 13-year olds, back in a middle
school, preparing for your career as a teacher. And you’ll miss what seemed
like a different life you led in the past.
You’ll miss waking up to a campus alive with passion and
community on Saturdays in the fall. You’ll miss the clanging of the bells at
the top, sides, and bottom of every hour. You’ll miss Tuesday night dinners
with your vivacious church group. You’ll miss the sunsets that looked like they
were painted by Picasso himself.
As you grow older you’ll come to love the show The Office,
and you’ll start thinking about an Andy Bernard quote more all the time:
“I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days
before you've actually left them.”
Relish these “good old days” ahead.
They’ll be good for a reason.
~ Matt
