Yes, I started writing this on June 7th, the day you graduated from eighth grade. And yes, today’s August 17th, your first day of high school. *Uh, what??* You showed up with parent homework for ME. Good thing I love high school. So here I am, finishing my self-assigned homework two months late. But when I turn it in tonight, your teacher’s gonna give me an A for sure.
My dearest Jacob,
Today’s the day you’re graduating from eighth grade. It feels like perfect timing for your annual birthday letter. I like to let you sink into your new age a bit before trying to capture the essence of you in my digital blog bottle.
Of course I know your fourteenth birthday was in March. It was your golden birthday– 14 on the 14th. Pi day. But you like cake. School was canceled due to torrential downpours and flooding. This year has given you and Nate a warped sense of rain and school closures. You love it when it’s cold and foggy. School being canceled on your birthday was your all-time fave… till the power went out.
Today is graduation. I mean “promotion.” And it’s the first time Laguna Middle School has ever celebrated its eighth graders. You dressed-up this morning in your jeans from Dad’s shop, a Laguna hoodie under your Office Hours flannel, and Dad’s Air Jordans. For graduation you asked for a pair of Air Pod Pros… and a side of a million dollars. Ha ha. You gave me graduation cheering instructions specifically for “the Boomers”: 1. No yelling your name. 2. Don’t cheer too loud.
I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises. No one controls the Boomers.
You are permanently hungry. And tired. I’ve successfully transitioned you from Bundabergs to Waterloo, but Tate chocolate chip cookies are on the endangered snacks list. Nate thinks cold turkey is the only way. He wants me to eliminate all treats given there is no way to protect them without a locked cupboard. He may have a point. But I’m sure he’d concede if you reminded him you made Texas Sheet Cake for his birthday.
Your favorite dinners are composed dishes– mostly bowls. Unlike your brother, you don’t enjoy meals where there is a protein, a starch, and a vegetable all separately plated. You love just about everything I make and tell me it’s bussin’. Or fire. You especially appreciate my Thai bowls with Grama’s Sweet Chilli Sauce. You’re into all the Asian Grandma sauces. Bachan’s Japanese Barbecue Sauce is your favorite. You miss Dad’s spaghetti. And ribs. All this eating and sleeping has resulted in your continued upward rise. You passed me in December. You’re now a reliable reacher of high places and lifter of heavy things.
You’ve been crushing eighth grade. I get your grades via text every Monday morning and they’re excellent. You manage your work. You take responsibility for yourself. You’ve picked-up the basics of studying and time management and my Nike rule of extra credit (just do it). And you’ve internalized my casual advice to make yourself real, known, and memorable to your teachers. Professors and bosses are more empathetic when they know you. Just ask your Advanced English teacher, Mrs. Friend. You like watching my YouTube house building videos with your school counselor, Miss Allwein. You loved spending the year in Yearbook with Miss Mooney. You’re especially proud of your pet page layouts. You were quick to volunteer to take pictures of the 3-mile run fundraising event last week. Not so much for your love of photography, but perhaps for your love of not running.
Unfortunately, the Laguna soccer program was a real bust. Terribly organized. Understaffed. Rained out. I’m proud of you for powering through. We watched the whole Ted Lasso series together. You wanted me to read the Scythe series so bad that we’re back to a chapter or two a night. It’s one of my most favorite times of the day.
Your entrepreneurial brain is always on. You talk a lot about your “toast” restaurant concept. This year, a couple of teachers got you thinking beyond a future in computer science. You started asking about studying architecture, and business. You’re creative, artistic, and curiously wise. We’ve had some of the hardest conversations this year. And I walk away confident in who you are, and better because of you.
Like all the teenagers, you love playing video games on your PC. You’re back on Minecraft. You play with Nate’s friends and are really good at managing your language– unlike your buddies. There’s a lot of laughing, and whooping, and hollering. Though sometimes I have to forcefully remind you to be nicer to Lightning McQueen and SilverWolf.
Since Dad passed away in December, one of the questions I get the most is “How are the boys?” And I can sincerely say, really good. You and Nate are always singing and dancing. You miss your dad. You religiously water his bonsai. We talk about him every night at the dinner table. You tell me stories I didn’t even know. But as you’d say, you’re not Depresso Espresso. You’re more caring and kind and strong than you know.
I love you Jacob James. Dad loves you. Your brother loves you. I am so unbelievably lucky to be spending this day with you. I can’t wait to eat Bee Stang pizza with hot honey, and to pick you up from the dance tonight, and to explore England with you this summer. Keep being yourself. There is only one you and I love you so much my heart bursts.
Love,
M.