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My Farewell Letter

I knew this day would come. I just didn’t know that it would be so soon. My cousin (I swear, he was born yesterday) left for COLLEGE…

College…it’s a wonderful thing…when it’s, like, 5 minutes away. In this case, it’s FOUR DANG HOURS AWAY! Miles, my 18 year old cousin, has been stolen from me by The University of Alabama. They’re going to keep him for approximately four years before we get him back.

Sure, he’s happy, and sure, he’s in good hands. But UGH!!! I miss the dude!

When Miles left, our entire, ginormous family went into a tizzy. All of our combined feelings came together to form a giant ball of emotions. We all wrote letters to him, and tried not to cry all over each other. I would like to say we succeeded, but….

When I was writing my letter, with every other word I wrote came another emotion. Sad, angry, sentimental, giggly, and a touch of “I-want-ice-cream”. I know the lil dude is happy and having the absolute time of his life. But…just…when did my tiny little baby get to the age where it’s legal for him to drive a freaking car? AND WHEN THE HECK DID HE GET OLD ENOUGH TO GO TO COLLEGE?! I’ve been preparing for this day ever since his voice got lower. It still wasn’t enough time.

If you’re in the mood to read one of my emotional blobs, stick around. I’ve gotcha covered.

Behold, my soppy letter:

Miles. Freaking. Thomas. Don’t laugh at me for being the most cliche cheeseball EVER, but…I remember when you were a lil peanut!! You were the most adorable peanut I’ve ever seen! Ya know, I can’t really help the fact that I’m an emotional twenty-something year old, (especially when my favorite cousin named Miles is leaving me) but I CAN control the overwhelming urge to come up to Bama every weekend to squeeze your cheeks and embarrass the heck out of you in front of all your cool friends. It’s hard, but I’m doing this for you…you’re welcome.

So. I believe it’s time for some comic relief (ya know…so that I can distract myself from from the little girl inside me that keeps reminding me that you’re about to be 4 hours away).

Remember when we were all at your house, and I convinced you that I had seen Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirror? It scared the bajeezus out of you. But, hate to tell ya, the story doesn’t end there. You finally got smart and called me out for being a big, full of crap, bully. Well. After you forgave me and we were friends again, we all, as a family, went out to a Mexican restaurant. If I remember correctly, we were celebrating my 16th birthday, and I just KNEW that my dad was going to request a pie to be smashed in my face. Unfortunately for you, I had planned to have the pie smashed in YOUR face. I went up to our waiter, explained the whole situation, (I’m a big jerk, I’m trying to prank my cousin, etc.) and he was on board. The entire staff came out a few minutes later, put the sombrero on MY head to throw everybody at our table off, and stood by me as if I was about to get a face full of pie. Oh…but that was not the case. Our waiter snuck up behind you, armed with a plate full of whipped cream, and BAM! He totally caught you off guard. Right then and there, you knew that I was the one behind it all, and you just stared at me. I laughed my little arse off, thinking that I was off the hook. Nah, bro. There was a pie for me, too. BAM! Now we both were covered in whipped cream and the entire restaurant was staring. You weren’t mad at me, because I had made a huge fool out of myself, and you were nice enough to let my uber embarrassment be your sweet, sweet revenge. So. Thank you for that.

-Jen

PS: Roll tide, ya little twerp. Love you.