Dear Mom and Dad,

First of all, I want to say thanks. Thanks for helping me to get this far; there's absolutely no way I could have done it without your constant support.

You were the ones who stayed up with me as I slogged through mountains of homework, who drove me to and from school, sports, music lessons, and birthday parties.

You were the ones who bought me ice cream when I succeeded and who offered constructive criticism when I failed.

You were with me through the adorable little-kid years, the awkward middle school years, and the angsty high school years.

You've done everything for me and never asked for anything in return, and I can't even begin to express my gratitude.

And now, you're about to do the hardest thing parents can do; you're letting me go.

With smiles on your faces, you're helping me buy bedding, furniture, and textbooks, even though you know that in doing so you're helping me leave. I don't know how you feel about it, exactly, but I'm sure it's as bittersweet for you as it is for me. On one hand, the fact that I'm going to college is a source of pride; you've raised a child who is ready to be self-sufficient, to take on the world.

You're probably excited for me, too; you remember your own college experiences fondly and you know I'll have the time of my life. On the other hand, though, I know that this won't be easy; I'll be far away and sometimes staying in touch might be difficult. So, before I go, there are some things I want to say to you that will hopefully assuage your doubts and convince you that everything will be alright.

I want you to have faith in what you've taught me. Not to toot my own horn, but you've raised a pretty good kid. Thanks to you, I know right from wrong. I might make a few bad decisions — in fact, I guarantee that in these next four years, it'll happen at least once — but just know that I'll be fine. Next, please understand that I'm probably going to want some space. I'll be out in the world, trying the whole “autonomy" thing for the first time, and I might go a little freedom-crazy for the first few weeks. It doesn't mean I've stopped caring, and I will come back to you in due time, I promise. Until then, try not to take it personally.

Third: promise me you'll have fun! Don't let empty nest syndrome get the best of you, and don't spend so much time worrying about me that you neglect your own lives. Go out on dates, have poker nights with your friends, join a book club or a sports team. I want to know that you're happy, too. Do the risky things you've always wanted to do, but never could because you had to think about me--skydive, learn to ride a motorcycle, try your hand at cliff diving. And take plenty of pictures so you can tell me all about your awesome experiences when I come home.

Finally, and most importantly, remember that I love you, now and forever, and I'll miss you very much. No matter how busy we all are doing our own separate things, though, we're still a family. Yes, the day-to-day parts of our lives have irrevocably changed, but the core of love and understanding is still there, and always will be. I know that I'll always have you to come home to, and you need to know that I'll always be there for you, too, in whatever capacity you need me. It'll be a hard adjustment, but I'm confident that we'll make it work.

This might be the end of one era, but it's also the beginning of a new one. And this new era is about to be even better than the last.

Love,

Me