23 July 2014

my morrocco

I heard from an old friend. 
I'm not sure if you remember me, he wrote. 

Way back when, he was a senior in high school, 
and I was his Admission Counselor.
I know we weren't supposed to have favorites, 
but without a doubt, he was mine.
How could I forget?

He didn't have a lot, but I believed in him anyway.
I said yes when others said no. 
I fought for him.

And sixteen years later, he came to Washington. 

He told me that it mattered. That I mattered. 
He told me he is healthy and happy and traveling and in love. 
He told me he earned a PhD, and he is now a professor of Literature. 

And I wept. 
Oh, how I wept. 
It turns out I was right. 
And I couldn't be prouder. 

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