Dear Mom and Dad

Disclaimer: I understand that we all have different relationships with our parents. All of our lives are entirely different and weird but, whatever you do, don’t think your relationship with your parents is wrong or bad. Unless your relationship with your parents is that of best friends. Mom’s not Sally from second period who you talk hot goss with. She’s Dr. Sally Z. Lauterjung D.D.S. She’s your mother, not your friend. That doesn’t mean you can’t talk at all, but there’s a difference between talking about what you did at school and what you may or may not be doing with your significant other on an unsupervised Saturday night. Right? Right. If you’re with me, ignore that. If not, you’re part of the problem; look in the mirror. I digress.

I am writing and publishing this open letter because I feel that the situation I find myself in is very typical right now. Enjoy.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Almost all hours of the day I have a headache. Why? I miss Erica. I miss Jaren. I miss Miles. I miss Cam. I miss all of the boys. I miss calling Mrs. Kostko “Mrs. K” and vandalizing her white board. I miss listening to old CDs on the way to school and a playlist titled “John” on the way home. I miss complaining about the musical. I miss parking in spot #31 everyday. I miss covering my pit stains when I wear anything other than a black polo. I miss calling Roundtable “Clowntable.” I miss talking sports at lunch. And I definitely miss socializing with other kids who are pushing their (obviously well thought out) political views. Psych. Lol. Got ‘em.

I miss all of the small details that make my day enjoyable. I miss my people. I know you both understand that.

Mom, I know you miss your girls at the office and putting a smile on all of the kids’ faces. Dad, I know you miss going out and meeting new people, networking and helping others. I love you both very dearly (because I’m your guy, Dad, and because I’m your baby, Mom) and know that we’re all on the same sort of trip–we just have different baggage.

I just want you both to know how sorry I am for how I’ve been acting during Coronafest. From what I understand, the physical pain I feel is similar to what a smoker who’s gone cold turkey feels: withdrawal.

For most waking hours of the day, I have a headache. When I wake up, my joints are throbbing. At one point in the day, my hands ache like they’re trying to grow bigger. At another, my shoulders feel like they’re trying to separate from my body. After dinner, my back spazzes. As I’m winding down for bed, my legs wobble like Jell-o.

Most of the day I just feel lonely. I know that you guys are aware that every day is a “bad day” for me because I go out to the back yard and shoot soccer balls around every day. I just miss the life I was in the middle of living. I know that you miss yours too.

But really, I’m sorry. I am. You two are not doing anything wrong. In fact, quarantine would be a whole lot worse without you two.  I’m just more irritable and combative than I usually am. I don’t really know what else to say other than sorry because I don’t know how to get out of this rut other than getting out of the house (which really isn’t an option right now). Just know that I still love you two even though I don’t show it and, if there were two adults I could choose to quarantine with, it’d probably be Pete Davidson and Colson Baker, but you two are a solid second place (psych, got you guys again).

Your Son,

John William