Before You Go

LETTER FOR LAUNCH

Hey friends—

Wednesdays around here usually come with sarcasm and a heavy dose of local absurdity. But we’re still in back-to-school mode—and chances are, you are too.

This week isn’t just about lunchboxes and morning car lines. It’s also about something harder: sending them off.

Some of you have already done it. For others, the day’s coming soon.

A version of this letter was written in our home just before a college drop-off. Your version may have sounded different. Or maybe you’re still searching for the words.

But if you’ve ever had to let someone go—you’ll understand.

---

✉️ Before You Go

Dear You,

I’ve been thinking about this letter for weeks. Maybe longer. There are some things I want to tell you—things I hope you’ll carry with you, especially in the days when the world feels loud and unfamiliar.

You’re heading into one of the most unforgettable chapters of your life. Embrace it. Try everything. Take on the academic challenges, the awkward social mixers, the clubs you almost skip, and the conversations that don’t come easy. What you’re about to experience doesn’t happen twice.

So don’t sit on the sidelines. Get involved. Speak up. Give it your full attention. These years will shape you and stay with you long after they’re done.

The first few weeks might feel like a storm. You’ll feel pulled in different directions. You’ll wonder if you’re doing it right, and you might think everyone else has it figured out.

They don’t. They’re all new. They’re just as nervous, and they’re probably hoping someone will say “hi” first. Be the one who does.

That stranger in your dorm might be your study partner, your roommate, or your best friend five years from now. The people you meet now—you may be telling stories with them for the rest of your life.

And yes, have fun. But also: use your judgment. You only get one reputation, and one chance to make decisions you can live with.

Most importantly, don’t let fun replace focus. A lot of things will try to steal your time. Not all of them deserve it. Work hard, but take breaks on purpose. Then get back to work. It makes the rest of life more enjoyable—and sustainable.

There will be lonely days. That’s normal. It gets better.

It usually takes a few weeks before a new place starts to feel like your place. That’s not failure. That’s just how we’re wired. Be patient.

And when it gets tough, slow down. Breathe. Try again. You’ll find your footing. You always do.

Just so you don’t forget: you are loved. Always. By us. And probably by a few people you haven’t even met yet—but will.

Call us. Or text. Or send a meme. Let us know what you’re up to—even the boring stuff. Especially the boring stuff.

And remember—what you’re doing is a privilege. Not everyone gets this shot. You earned your place, and you deserve to be here. But don’t take it for granted. Show up with gratitude. Leave it better than you found it.

The chance to be at this school—it’s a door only you can walk through. And no one can take your degree away from you once it’s yours.

Here’s something you might not believe yet: we remember being your age. We remember the pressure, the uncertainty, the need to prove something. And we also know how fast it goes.

So if you need us—really need us—say something. No topic is off-limits. No mistake is too embarrassing. No problem is too weird. We've seen more than you think. And we're on your side.

You’ll mess up. It’s part of the deal. But learn from it. That’s what counts. We won’t always be there to catch you. But we’ll always be here to talk you through it.

When we think about you leaving, it’s not just the big milestones we miss. It’s the sound of you yelling at your video game when we assumed you were asleep. It’s the 4 a.m. laundry because your uniform was still in a heap on the floor. It’s the echo of your laugh from the other room when your friends were over. And yes, even the last-minute texts: “Can you drop me at Panera? Like… now?”

All those little moments we barely noticed? They’re what we miss the most. We will miss the noise, but we’re proud of the quiet strength you’re walking into.

You’ve got this.

So go. Be brave. Own your choices. Own your voice. Own the messy, beautiful, wild path ahead of you.

And when it feels overwhelming, come back to this letter. You’ll always be a part of us—and we’ll always be a part of you.

We are so very proud of you.

With love,
Us

P.S. — Don’t forget to separate lights and darks. But also, don’t stress if you forget. No one is grading the laundry.