A Love Letter by Tessa Moore
August 25, 2016
We told you for months that I was leaving for college, but it wasn’t until you were looking through my bottles of shampoo, laundry detergent, silverware, and soap that you finally understood. You turned around and crawled on my bed next to me. “I don’t want you to go to college.” Your six-year-old voice cracks with tears. Then, I had to hug you and let you cry. You didn’t know this but I was crying along with you. Technically, I was tearing up. But I wouldn’t be crying if I hadn’t tried so hard not to. Continue reading “Saying Goodbye (For Now)”
By Angela Noel
August 18, 2016
Getting from here to there could be a harrowing journey; drivers honked, tires squealed, and traffic lights were mere suggestions. Angela did’t like traveling in her city. But that wasn’t the only problem. In the 1990s, members of a drug cartel moved into her quiet, middle class neighborhood in Santiago de Cali, Colombia. Someone was assassinated across the lane from her house.
Angela, a teen then, wondered, Do people obey the law in the U.S.? Continue reading “How to Let the Magic Happen”
From Angela: Love Letters are written by subscribers to the You Are Awesome blog. Each of us know teachers, friends, lovers, parents, grandparents, children, bosses, artists, mentors, or teammates who embody goodness, who give the best of themselves in unique and interesting ways. I ask for your courage. I ask for your words. I ask that you share your gratitude and admiration. I ask for YOUR love letters. To learn how to submit a guest post read this.
Be awesome in real life.
By Kathy Davis
August 11, 2016
I love you, my friend. I tell you so whenever we talk on the phone and sometimes when we are just chatting side by side on the couch. But I don’t think I have ever told you why I cherish you. We have laughed and cried together, and shared secrets we shall keep forever. Now, I want you to know how much I value and honor you. Continue reading “35 Years of Secrets, Laughter, and Love”
By Angela Noel
August 4th, 2016
Weeks after the birth of her first child in 1946, Dolores Meurer Reed climbed into the cockpit of the Navy surplus airplane she and husband Bob bought with the last of their newlywed nest-egg. Not long after her wheels left earth, the instruments failed–every single one of them. “I landed it on fear alone.” She promised herself she wouldn’t fly again. At least, not until her babies had all grown up. Flying, her capricious and complicated first-love, kept trying to kill her. Continue reading “What Doesn’t Kill You”