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Friday, February 18, 2005

Hi Megan,

You are getting married, and you're five months pregnant.

When we were about sixteen, I thought you were the most amazing girl in the world. We started off as friends, and we were just that for about two years. Then, on New Year's Eve 1998, we got drunk and played truth or dare in a hotel room with a group of friends. The end result was you and I fooling around in the big sweaty hotel bed. After that, we began an illicit relationship that no one could know about because I dated a close friend of yours as a freshman, and she would've been insanely jealous even though you and I got along much better than she and I ever did.

It could have never worked out--we were never really made for each other, and there were too many factors working against us at the time anyway. Still though, I look back on the late-night phone conversations we had and the times we went to Sonic to get a Route-44 Strawberry-Limeade slush as some of the best times of my youth.

At our senior retreat, I participated in that part where we all were given the opportunity to give a final statement or a thanks to a person or persons who made a difference in our time at St. Pius X high school by making a poorly-thought-out speech about how wonderful you were, and ended up breaking down in tears in front of our entire class. You came up and hugged me, and made me feel less stupid.

When we graduated, you were given the honor "Ms. Panther", which means that you were basically the best all-around female student. I think that some of the girls were jealous, particularly your aforementioned friend who would have been jealous of our short-lived but nonetheless exciting romance, but even she was proud of you.

Then you went to school at St. Mary's, and eventually Notre Dame. You studied dilligently, and took a heavy course load, as well as keeping up with what has been your biggest passion--acting. You also made a lot of friends and drank a lot of red wine and vodka martinis, I imagine.

Then, near the end of college, you told me that you met a wonderful guy. His name is Tom, you said, and he was unlike any guy you'd ever dated before.

Our conversations have been pretty limited since high school was over, but as we both know, that's just what happens sometimes.

When we spoke today, and you told me that you had some news, I was expecting you to say that you were getting married. I didn't expect the pregnancy. I think that if any of my other female friends our age told me that they were pregnant, I would have winced, and then given a half-hearted congratulations. When you told me, the only thing I could think was that your child would be among the luckiest to come into the world.

You will be an amazing mother. Your children will be the bright, cultured, kind, and productive members of society. You won't spoil your children; you'll love them as only the best mother can. You'll do only what's best for them, you'll make every decision as if it were the most important, because you know each decision matters.

You will be a cool mother. You will be the mother that says "If you're going to drink, I want you to do it at home, where I can keep an eye on you." You will let your kids test their limits, but you'll always keep an eye on them to make sure they don't go too far. You will be friends with your children, but they will always know that what you say goes.

You will be the hot mom that picks her kids up from school in her cool car.

Congratulations.

Love,

Chris

1 Comments:

Blogger Ben said...

If you're going to drink do it at home? Pfft!

Oh, and nice letter.

3:26 AM  

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