Letter 110: The Years that Answer
When we revisit the past
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Happy November and happy Wednesday!
When Molly asked me to write this week’s letter, I had no idea what I would write about, but as I ruminated, I realized that I wanted to write about the passing of time and how it changes us. But also maybe we don’t really change so much at all? So here’s my angsty letter about how I am just the same and completely different from who I was at seventeen. Maybe you can relate? Will you meet me behind the mall? —Emily
“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
It’s 2023, which might not mean much to you, but to me, it means that I graduated from high school 20 years ago. Twenty years! It’s a wild number because it was just yesterday?? But even more so, my junior and senior years of high school were fraught with feelings of anxiety and tinged with sadness. In my junior year, I learned that my family would be moving from Virginia to Texas the summer before my senior year. I was devastated: I loved my school and my friends and we were heading into our senior year together, full of college visits, college applications, and “last” experiences.
This teenage angst colored my experiences as I finished my junior year and we moved halfway across the country to complete my high school career in a new school with new classmates and college choices that felt unfamiliar to me. It feels dramatic now, but it was dramatic, especially as a 17-year-old kid. I didn’t know what I wanted out of life, and I certainly didn’t know how to express or even identify that this change was scary and came with lots of uncertainty about the trajectory of my future.
From my past letters, you might remember that I, like Molly, was a high school English teacher for nearly a decade. I loved teaching but decided to take a break in 2020 due to my daughter being born during the pandemic. I enjoyed my break from teaching and I wondered if I’d ever return to the profession. But when my principal called in August (the Friday before in-service!) asking if I’d be interested in teaching two classes this school year, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. (A perfect part-time schedule! A chance to work with my English department besties again! An opportunity to teach The Great Gatsby to high schoolers! A dream!) With this unexpected opportunity to return to teaching, and in my work with juniors specifically, I’m reminded just how young they are. How young I was. I love seeing my students again at different points in their lives—after college graduations, at their grad school graduations, at their weddings, at their baby showers. I’ve learned in my work with high schoolers that while, yes, they (we) are young and green and naive at 17, we also are ourselves. The seed of who we are has already been planted, and at 17 we are but a sapling of who we will grow to be: our systems are in place and our soil has nourished our initial growth.
With other life milestones that have occurred this year (My daughter turning three! Chris and my 15th wedding anniversary!), I’ve come to see the truth of this sentiment. I don’t regret the outcome of this life change that took place in my youth; I love my life and the path down which it has led me. But twenty years is a milestone that feels hard to ignore. I’m introspective to a fault (I’m an enneagram 4, after all), and this year has been full of opportunities for me to consider my past self, allowing some of those latent emotions to bubble up to the surface so I can actually feel them and process them. It’s grief, really.
This past May, I had the opportunity to attend a graduation party for the daughter of a dear family friend. It was so sweet to see her excitement and take part in celebrating her accomplishments. She had been accepted to one of my dream colleges--one where if I’d had been able to complete high school in Virginia I might have had a better chance for acceptance and an opportunity to attend with my high school friends. Of course, all of this is conjecture; however, I think that this graduation party was the first time I’d thought about those years of my life in quite a while. And yet: I attended that very party with Chris and Lottie--my people; my heart. The very people who make up my whole life. I know that without that move, without that loss, I wouldn’t be living this life today. These moments provide me with an opportunity to remember my gifts: I have lost something, yes, but I have also gained something in return.
There’s an incredible interview from a few years ago between Stephen Colbert and Anderson Cooper about living with grief. Please watch it. My hardship of moving pales in comparison to the losses Cooper and Colbert have experienced and discuss in their conversation, but my example of grief is metaphorical. All our lives are met with challenges and experiences that impact our trajectories. If only, we might say. But I’m slowly learning that it’s within this messiness between grief and joy that life takes shape.
“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Emily’s Five Favorite Things (Rehashing the Past Edition):
Taylor Swift’s album Midnights, especially the track “Question…?”
A thoughtful and lil-bit-sardonic synth-pop song about a hypothetical meet-up with an ex in which she takes the opportunity to ask him some sassy QUESTIONS. “It’s just a question!” I love it.
Britney Spear’s memoir The Woman in Me
Brit’s book is solid. Really enjoyed it. I feel like the editing could have been tighter, but I also think it was important to Britney and her publisher that her voice clearly shines through. Justin Timberlake is such an asshole, but we already knew that.
Walt Whitman’s poetry, always, but specifically these lines from “O Me! O Life!”:
What good amid these, O me, O life?Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Chris and I have been rewatching Friends after hearing of Matthew Perry’s tragic passing. The episode “The One With Ross’s New Girlfriend” had us in stitches.
On October 1, I had the opportunity to attend the Dallas show of Death Cab For Cutie + Postal Service’s 20th-anniversary tour, for which both bands played through their full albums Transatlanticism and Give Up. 2003 Emily was extremely happy. And she cried at least three times. 😭
With gratitude,
Emily Smith
P.S. Here are a few of my past letters, including making a world that fits women, being nice vs. being kind, and having fewer, better friendships.
I was at a women’s retreat once where a survey was done regarding how women in different age brackets view their life stage and each successive stage was more satisfied. It’s like, as women age, we funnel our some of our wisdom into understanding ourselves and all the past versions with a sense of satisfaction. I know all stages hace their challenges but I found this very hopeful.
So thankful to be part of your years, Emily. ❤️