“No more poverty for me, I am in my own world with my diamonds and pearls.
I have moved further than the grass grows and further up than the reaching up to the skies has allowed me. I have finished the year here, no longer ill at ease.”Frosh
An open letter to all seniors,
If it does not directly hit you, you may read over my shoulder as I write.
I remember walking along the windows outside the PSB labs and you waving to me through the window, beckoning me in. Maybe now I can look forward to Organic Chemistry with the confidence I saw in your eyes as I wondered whether I too could. I also remember walking with you for the first few meals here at the DC telling me what was on each day. In addition, how to sometimes take the Blue Bus over to Bryn Mawr, for the grill at Erdman. My widening tummy thanks you for the directional advice.
I remember your introduction to other freshmen at both schools, with faces fresh to the scene, we are grateful for those first few connections, who we will share this journey with when you are long graduated.
You made me cry at the a’capella concert. You were singing on stage so adorably. I was so proud of you representing out there. You were the first to ask shy me to a dance on the first weekend here last semester. I wanted to buy you a bouquet after, but I thought that was cheesy and clingy. I am all about flowers now, as you already know. Remember, you took the Swat van with me and we snoozed all the way back. I guess we owe the schedule makers for that last 2:30am run.
You were the reason I did not quit that class, that gym class where I was not sure I could last through. Yes, the one you panted through and raved about after. Nothing, of course can compare to your auditioning for the same dance group as me, just for moral support even though you couldn’t possibly schedule it, what with your major work ahead for the semester.
Thanks for going to the first walk along Penn’s Landing. I guess that would still be just a place on the map of the city that I had not been to yet. I wonder whether you know getting me to go to Cuba Libre last Halloween haunts me to date, and that I sneak off for a meal as and when I can. Shhh! Don’t tell Mother when she comes to pick me up next week. That goes for the Phillies and Pat’s Cheesesteaks too.
I think I want to go to DC next Fall like you did as a soph, to see if working there will be a plus in the years until I too graduate. See I am proud of you even after all the names we call each other; you call me Squirt, Froshling, Kid and maybe I will stop calling you Granps, and ordering a mail order walking cane for you every other week.
I am convinced that I will not hide from you if I ever see you walking down the street, because though my major is Undecided right now, I have no doubt I will be someone, just like you some day. We have not solved for world peace and I still think your choice of hairdresser is wacky, but I will miss you and hold you close in my heart. Sincerely, Your Frosh.