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.