Graduation: A Letter to My Child
Congratulations. Today you graduated. You escaped the “prison” that held you for so long.
The ceremonies end. The farewells finish. Then a strange emptiness arrives, right after the peak. You start to miss the everyday routine. You miss the familiar — even the parts you swore you hated.
Once again you face the world, alone, all by yourself. No one to your left or your right to copy. No one to glance at and see how they handle it. No one nearby struggling as much as you, to make you feel less alone in it. And you can’t go back to being a baby, either. That door is closed.
But let me tell you something. We adults fail the world too — all the time. Don’t be bothered by failure, by unfamiliarity, by feeling awkward. Everyone starts somewhere. Everyone grows out of it. And the world truly does not care about your failure, or anyone else’s. That sounds harsh. It’s actually a gift. No one is watching as closely as you fear.
For a short while — the few months before your new school starts — you have something rare: real freedom. (Though our home is its own kind of prison, and so is Earth, if we’re honest.) You also get a brand new chance to re-create your self-image. None of your new people know how your old self worked, back in your old school. No one will ask why you don’t act like “you” anymore. So experiment. Explore. Try on a different way of being.
And here’s the secret: this isn’t your only chance. When you start the new school, another reset arrives. The world is generous that way — you get to remake your image every few years. So never let yourself be boxed in by who you were. Keep finding out what you’re capable of, and what is uniquely yours. (I wrote more about that here.)
One last thing. Since you’re resetting yourself anyway — why not reset into an early bird? Wake up on the first alarm, every day. Yes, even over the summer.
Love, Dad