Dear... (
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Dear High School Girl
Dear High School Girl: Every morning, I crawl my way through the turbulence in the halls, swimming through an intoxicating mixture of Dollar Store body sprays and hormonal odors, dodging students jostling with friends or infatuated with phone screens. And, every morning, I catch sight of you . . . well, you AND him, as I approach the classroom. Yeah, I admit, I have to swallow down the gag reflex while the two of you make out and run hands all over each other. The way you look at him, twirling a stray curl from his cheek in one of your fingers, I know that nothing else matters in…
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Dear Walmart Greeter
Dear Walmart Greeter: I don’t know why folks—myself included—grumble and complain about stopping for you to check their bags as they leave Walmart. It’s store policy and you have a job to do. When I remind a student to take their hat off for class, put their cell phone away for the fifth time, and turn their camera on for our remote meeting, I understood what you face every day. We’re halfway through the school year and these students still don’t follow the rules. I guess we must seem like rebellious teenagers to you too. I mean, how do you even do it when seven people come at you with…
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Dearest Daughter, You Are Enough
Her body trembled as she pressed against me. I could feel the weakness and uncertainty she felt seep from her skin into my body as I absorbed the waves of emotion. She was hurting because of the cruel words of another. The icy dread and anger crept quietly into my soul although I spoke softly and comforted her with my words. This gentle, fragile girl I cradled was my daughter. A part of my very soul. The soft essence of her was an extension of myself. The cry of her heart matched the tones of my own in perfect harmony. She wept. Tears slowly drifting down her pale cheeks while…
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Dear Starbucks Barista:
Dear Starbucks Barista: When I smiled at you over the cash register and gave you my drink order (along with an impulsive pastry purchase), I was honored that you asked what church I attend because you recognized that I always wear dresses when I drop in to work on my writing. You told me that you’re Pentecostal Apostolic too. How cool is that?! When I sat down and told my husband about our chat, he mentioned that the two of you have talked several times already about his favorite college football team: Ohio State Buckeyes (How did I miss these conversations?). I just died laughing when you walked over to…
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“Dear Mother of a Teenage Daughter…”
Dear Mother of a Teenage Daughter: I know she slammed the door in your face for the third time this week. You stood outside the door for two full minutes, taking deep breaths, trying to decide if you should force your way through the offending door and demand respect or threaten to ship her off to your sister. Your sister wouldn’t put up with these teenage temper tantrums. Or…you could just shuffle down to your own room and cry yourself to sleep. You opt to cry yourself to sleep. Again. Feeling like a miserable excuse for a mother. Again. I’m sorry this is so hard. (Big hug from me…)I know…