Remember when I was 17 and trying to mobilize a small town in the middle of nowhere (my dear, sweet nowhere) to buy cows for people in South East Asia who had lost a lot from the 2004 tsunami. And how I would call awareness to Darfur and jihads and how murderous photos of children with the starving puff-belly look are? (You can imagine I enjoyed being co-editor-in-chief of the school newspaper to have such a forum every month.)
I think I failed at all of that.
And that's maybe OK.
I was a real harping soap box kid in high school. And no one ever cared much except the elderly ladies who would talk to my mom when they went to the library.
I just got a letter today showing that somebody remembered that I had been a part of their life and it was a good thing and I think that made every minute of [insert descriptive word here] high school worth it.
"All you need is love, doo da doo doo doo, All you need is love, doo da doo doo doo, All you need is luh-ha-ha-huv--"
Love,
Marge
I'm glad you're a part of my life...but I guess that doesn't have much merit because I haven't known you that long. Now, if I write to you 10 years from now, then you will you know how much I truly appreciate you. Although, whether or not I write you in 10 years my level of appreciation is the same, you will just know about it if I write you in 10 years.
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