Dear Future Me,

Hi! It’s me… well, you. I hope you’re (we’re?) doing well. This is weird.

I just want to write this to you so you can open it on your bad days, we both know how we have those bad days. You know, the ones where we feel like we don't know what to do or how to make our lives "meaningful".

Right now I’m a sophomore at Wake and it’s really hard. Especially today because I’m stressed about all the work I have due this week and how I’m leaving on Thursday (missing three classes) to go to Katina’s wedding. It’s going to be an amazing weekend!! I’m excited, and it’ll be a blast once I get there, but for now I’m stressed about the work I need to get done in just three days so I can leave school on Thursday.

Right now I’m sitting outside of Benson wondering about the trees and how their leaves are changing so beautifully and how that beauty will go away. I’m thinking about how trees have more gold than any man could ever hope to know, but they let that gold fall to the ground and get blown away by the wind. The Magnolias here at Wake are magnificent (bad pun intended) this time of year. The Mag tree leaves are turning yellow while the magnolia blossoms are burning red hot like an iron stake pulled out of the fire. The blossoms are going to die soon, but in this last leg of their lives, they’re going out in a blaze before they fall to the floor, black and withered, their seeds viable to start anew.

I think it’s funny how trees have no mind for the beauty and gold that comes and goes with the seasons, but humans do anything to keep both. Botox, bank accounts, trust funds and rejuvenations. It’s all so much. Tree bark is wrinkly and in Winter trees let that proudly be shown. They know that what’s really important at the end of the day is enduring the weather and to keep standing tall.

The magnolia blossoms are so small compared to the whole tree and they all are born and die the same. They are born green and turn red at the end of their lives. Maybe they turn red because they’re trying too hard to reach the sun, or maybe it’s because they’re jealous of the tree for being so tall and strong, able to live on well past the magnolias. Maybe the blossoms turn red out of spite or a passion for vengeance. Once they turn red, the tree releases the blossoms that no longer serve him. The tree will release the blossoms to the ground where they’ll fall with their seeds viable to start anew. They all lived the same and they all died the same.

I'm worried about what job we're going to have and where we're going to be in just two and a half years when I'm expected to graduate and go into the "real world". But I know I'll be proud of myself if I'm doing something that makes me happy, whether that's a stay at home mom or an English teacher or a publisher or a lawyer. I'm concerned, but I shouldn't be.

I just hope that I grow up and live life like the magnolia trees: We’re around for a while, growing up and growing old, growing wrinkly and turning red, enduring the bad times with our heads held high because we know that where there is Winter there is a promise of Spring. I hope that we drop the red magnolia blossoms of spite, jealousy and revenge, and we put those negative feelings to rest in the ground before we, ourselves, die. I don’t know what I want us to do when we grow up, but I hope we don’t get distracted by the beauty or the gold. I hope that we’re given the opportunity to stay around on this earth long enough to drop both, realize that beauty and gold aren’t what really matters, and still stand tall. I hope that when we’re old and wrinkly, we show our bark with pride instead of looking in the mirror with our hands on the sides of our face pulling our skin back wishing to be in a different time or age. I hope that we get the chance to learn to listen to the world around us and stay strong while staying quiet. Bending with the wind while not breaking in the weather. Releasing the negativity that will only bring us down.

Love,

Maggi.