Dear Caden,
It’s officially been a week since spring break ended, and Mom and Dad have now made it very clear—it’s time for you to make a decision.
Though your college decision may seem simple, as if you’re just putting a pin on a map, it’s more than that. It’s deciding what you’re going to do for the rest of your life. It’s deciding how far you’re going to live from your family and friends, from me. Our parents’ reminders have not only made me remember the impending decision, but they’ve also made the fact that you’re actually leaving us… real.
I remember talking about how I would usurp your room as soon as you left for college, how I would lament about sharing my room with Ruthie. Then, “When Caden goes to college” felt so far away. Now it’s just a few months.
I’m scared for you. I’m worried your decision might affect the things you love, turning them into things you hate. I can see how your creativity shines through all the games you make, from a Pokémon-inspired card game for your friend to the worlds you make in Minecraft. To the endless number of road trip games you create, so we don’t get bored on our endless number of trips. I would hate for your career to take this creative spark away from you.
I would hate for whatever the future brings to take away your best quality.
I know there’s a good chance you might go far away. I don’t think I understood the gravity of this until recently; I didn’t realize how much your absence would affect me until just now.
There’s a part of me that wants you to stay right here, to not go to Indiana or South Carolina, because either one would mean you’re leaving us for good. Sure, you’ll come home for holidays and the summer, but your constant presence within our home will be gone.
We’ll never get to play another inventive game of yours or help you make another “Braylong” card. I’ll never go to bed at ungodly hours and greet you in the bathroom before also going to bed. It’ll just be me. Just me in the wee hours of the night, just me in your room, just me trying to make up a fun game to fill the chasm that you left.
Whatever decision you make, I know it will be a good one. And, despite my worries, I am excited for growing up, for raising children alongside you. I can’t wait to spend every summer with you at the lake, as you teach our kids your elaborate games and officially earn the title “Cool Uncle.” Whatever you decide to do, you’ll never stop being the funniest and most fun McClarty.
Never change, Caden. I love you.
Micah
