A letter from Dec 17th, 2021

Dear Brooke, Today is December 17, 2021. In case you don’t remember, this is the day that you found out you didn’t get into Northwestern. I know. Brutal, right? I bet you remember those tears. The anger that followed… and then when you threw your phone and then your earplugs. And then when you lost the phone you threw. So you had to FaceTime yourself from your computer to find it. I bet you also remember the note you wrote to yourself. When you realized that from that rejection, you learned to swallow one of the hardest pills in life. And I quote you: “your best does not always equate to the outcome you want; it equates to the outcome you need.” And that was hard to learn. It was. I would know because I’m you from that moment. I’m you. And I’m writing to you now, driving to Karen Imo’s with Jake in the car and stopped at that horribly short light on West Paces Ferry. Gosh, did they every fix that? I hope so. I don’t know which school they’ll announce when you walk across that stage. I have no idea. Truly. As of right now, you just emailed Boston College to change your decision to Early Decision II. Who knows what’s going to happen now. What’s fresh on my mind right now is the stinging rejection. It stung in a different way. Rejection is rejection no matter how you take it. From a person. From a program. From a school, in this case. It’s raw. It’s life in its truest and most humbling form. Because now, you have to start over. Now, everything feels so uncertain and unknown. It’s like you just realized that there really are 50 states in this country with hundreds of thousands of schools to choose from. It’s daunting. It’s scary. I’m really scared, actually. I have no idea what I want to do or who I want to be. What about who I need to be? What about her? I guess this one event put everything in perspective. And I realize now that getting into Northwestern wouldn’t have solved everything. Not really even anything. It would’ve solved the one question of where you were going to college, but that’s it. I chose to make this letter public and mention the schools for a reason. I’m not going to hide your pain from you, Brooke. You know better than anyone what it was like and the stages you went through. Perhaps someone out there can find solace in this. Solace from an 18 year-old girl who still lives at home and is just barely finding her way. I’m young. Loads of most likely naive. But I know that rejection is universal like I said. It stings. It hurts. But it is whah it is and we move on. More than anything, I’ll say what I said to you before you opened the email: I’m so proud of you. Remember that terrible exam week? All the split grades you had and how hard you worked to bring them up. Did you, by the way? I wouldn’t know now. Either way, just like with Northwestern, be proud of the work you did. Be proud that you tried. And most of all, be proud that you got up again. Be proud that you didn’t quit. I have absolutely nothing against Northwestern. I loved and still love Evanston and Chicago. I love that campus and the school is amazing. But it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t for us. And that’s okay. Because we landed right where were meant to be. And no, I’m guessing you still probably only have that one question answered. I guess life is about answering the other ones — no matter who and where it leads you too. This is long; I know. But I had a lot to say. You’re graduating high school today!!! How does that feel?? Probably surreal. Very weird. But hey, you’ve officially made it through high school. Everything is behind you. Leave it all and start fresh. I love you and I’ll always be with you. Let’s go **** **** up in the best way possible. I love you; always. Brookie.