Dear Almost Eighteen,
First things first: sit next to the tissues at that graduation and birthday party mom and dad are throwing for you.
I know you don’t think you’ll need them. She called tonight’s celebration one of Wine and Cheesy Poetry for a reason, and I promise it will be funny, but trust me: grab that box of Kleenex. Dusty’s about to read you a poem that his brother wrote just for this occasion. You’ll recognize it by his voice and by the frame in which it sits.