Dear Chance,
It is late in the morning on Saturday; I am sitting at Drip on Saluda Avenue in Columbia, South Carolina. I am enjoying one of those five dollar lattes that the media warns us is destroying our finances. I just took my first sip; it is incredible.
I would also be having a grilled cheese and egg sandwich, but we have a lunch reservation at Hall’s in about 45 minutes. Hall’s is our favorite restaurant in Columbia, and that may never change. We went there for lunch yesterday as well. I am going to make it a point for us to try a couple of new places on my next trip to visit you, but I think Hall’s will still be my favorite.
You are either still in bed, lounging in your dorm room, or checking out the Soda City Market. I think that it is safe to say that we both love Columbia, South Carolina.
I arrived in Columbia on Thursday, to find beautiful weather in a beautiful city, and a happy child. As your mom, I am happy when you are happy. You are loving your computer science classes, meeting new people, and making plans for the future. Your plans include a trip to Europe next spring. I am so excited for you.
I look at you, and I see a handsome grown man. You are more than flying on your own. I never worried that you would have difficulty with being so far away from home. I have always known that you would want to go places and see things all over the world. South Carolina, more than a fifteen hour drive from home, is just the beginning.
Since I have been here, you have been charming me with your southern gentleman gestures that you know are of great importance to me. I love the disapproving look that you gave me when I charged ahead of you and opened the door myself as we were leaving Hall’s yesterday. It warms my heart as I see you trying to walk slowly as to not walk ahead of me as I struggle to walk in my heals. Your stride is so long that walking slowly is so unnatural for you. I once could run in heals, now I am like a colt learning to walk after more than eighteen months of working from home.
I smile at your frugal ways as a college kid. If you keep this up, you will be a millionaire before thirty. I think that you have discovered that one does not need to spend money to be happy.
I like hearing about all of your new friends. I also like hearing that you are keeping up with your old friends. This weekend has been complicated for me emotionally. Seeing you happy, seeing you so independent, brings me to a level of happiness beyond anything else that I have ever felt. I am sitting here smiling warmly as I type.
At the same time, on Thursday, I had just stepped off of the airplane in Columbia, South Carolina to learn that my sister’s best friend, our childhood friend, had passed away. The news of Melissa’s death tugs at my heartstrings, stirring up a deep range of emotions.
I vividly remember our lives when Melissa and I were your age. Melissa was smarter and more talented than most of us. We made life choices as everyone does, some of them good and some of them bad. Melissa never recovered from her life choice to drink. For Melissa, the choice to drink led to addition, and addiction is not a choice; it is a disease.
My sister never stopped being a friend to Melissa through decades of bad decisions stemming from addiction. My sister tried to take care of her, and she tried to help her. My sister never stopped hoping and praying for Melissa because that is what true friends do.
As your life is just beginning, Melissa’s troubled life has ended. The feelings of great hope and excitement that I have for you in my heart are flooded with the sorrow that I feel for Melissa and her family. It has been an emotional two days.
I will be cutting my visit with you two days short, so that I can return home for the services for Melissa. I will see you again when you arrive home for Thanksgiving. In the meantime, I will sleep well at night knowing how happy you are and well you are doing.
I know you get tired of hearing it, but I want to tell you one more time that I am beyond proud of you. I love you more than anything in the world.
Love,
Mom