My Dearest Late Social Life,
My parents and I have lived in Detroit, Michigan since I can remember. They all of a sudden decided it would be a good idea to move to Jackson, Wyoming my Senior year of high school because my dad was offered a promotion to explore the developing possibilities of the eye-of-a-needle-sized town. You'd think he could have explored the possibilities in Detroit a little longer, but I obviously don't have a say in this family, so here I am, writing to you from the car as we pass over every pothole imaginable. Add smooth roads to the list of things I already miss. I've spent the last twenty hours in the car with my parents and Charlotte who's irritatingly excited about this move. With age, she'll learn the error of her ways. A twelve-year-old can only appreciate so much. I promise you, I wouldn't have left if I didn't have to. You know how parents are, always coming between us. I keep thinking back and wondering if there was anything I could have done to keep you. I even offered to get another job and find my own apartment to stay in Detroit. My parents thought about that option for about half a second before laughing in my face. My mom’s only reason for saying no is that she, Dad, and Char would miss me too much. Yeah, right. Alas, dear Social Life, your untimely demise was simply inevitable with my dad's job. I'm going to miss parties with Jay and Mac, or 2 a.m. excursions to the riverfront for pizza. It'll be impossible to find pizza like it anywhere else, especially a microscopic town in Wyoming. Mom says I’ll be able to spend a lot of time working on my photography there with all the space to explore, but what could I possibly photograph when there’s nothing around? I can’t have a memory card full of shrubs and trees or desolate scenes. Wyoming? More like WHYoming.
Sincerely and regretfully, Lamenting Leah.
