Dear Seniors,
We're still here. Stuck in the house. I’m watching rain pour down, and it’s at least an echo of the feelings I’m working through right now. I know I'm not giving up as much as you, but today I’m starting to feel the reality of what this band wife will miss.
Each year, as Spring starts, we ready ourselves for concerts and competitions and the end of the school year fun. We thumb through all the baby pictures you send in for the senior slide show.
I sometimes get to weigh in on prom-posals or which dress made the cut for the big dance. I get to take senior portraits for a few of you. I’m watching the new uniform and marching show get designed and brought to life. I’m watching you prep to leave us, just like every year.
Hopefully in 6 months, we’ll be so far past this we’ll even be a little ignorant to what we lived through during this period. It’ll be a time of “once was” and only reminisced about in the “best way possible” instead of the pain and heartache it’s causing now.
But right now, I just want to say out loud—I miss y’all already.
In fact, in 6 months, I’ll be on the sidelines again. Watching every step, every win, every loss, every note. But you won’t be there and don’t think just because you’re not there you're not part of what got us there. You all contributed to this team—you raised them. Be proud. We are.
It’s hard enough to know you’re the first class my son met. You're the ones he learned to walk with. It’s hard enough to even consider that I will not get to tell you in person that we will miss you dearly, that the band hall is always open to you and we are insanely proud of the person you’ve become.
As a parent, we try to shield our kid from any sort of hurt or worry. We try to make the world a place that is easy to live in so you can realize the journey on your own without fear. But as you become adults and learn your own way, you’re learning that terrible things happen, no matter what and without reason.
Here’s what I want you to take away from that.
You are loved and thought of and no matter what happens in this next stage, we are here for you. I wish every single one of you the best adventures. You will fail at times, but you’ll learn and succeed with the greatest of gusto.
For our tribe, band kids always reign supreme—because if you can march backward playing music and survive sight-reading and summer camp, then, by George, we think you have a darn good shot at being amazing. Because you already are.
Class of 2020, you got this. You’re made of stern stuff. And this too will pass. But...I miss y’all anyway. For the record, I don’t miss the smell of old uniforms. Wait til you all see those new ones.
Keep calm, march on, wash your hands, don’t share mouthpieces and continue being awesome.
Always, always,
Mrs. Jones