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.