Goodbye, Stack of Paper

Hey Thees!

Oh right, I forgot. You don’t like it when I call you ‘Thees’ anymore. Sorry! “Hey, Thesis,” then. Are you feeling alright? Your binder is a little crooked, let me fix that...Oh, and look at this, you’ve got schmutz down your front! I’ll wipe it off, stand still for a sec...ah! Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop fussing!

Wow. You look so handsome! Black really suits you, you know. And how you’ve grown! I remember when you were this big. You didn’t take up any room at all; I used to be able to e-mail you to myself with no problems, but now with all your stuff—notes, appendices, illustrations!—you fill up an entire jump drive. Don’t make that face you always make! I’m not complaining—I’m just saying. I miss the days when I could fold you up and put you in my pocket.

Oh Theesie, I’ll never forget how we started out. You were just a few lines on a grant application when I started traipsing all over the Northeast, carrying you from one musty archive room to another. You would eat anything back then! And how fast you grew—by the time we got back to campus I didn’t know what to do with you. But I took you to Dr. Steve and he helped us out, and soon we were just flying along.

My heart still stops when I think of the day my computer crashed with you inside. I probably only had to wait for a few minutes outside the clinic, but it seemed like hours. When they told me they were able to pull you out with no harm done, I’ve never been so relieved!

You know, you didn’t give me much trouble growing up, Thesis darling. Some of your friends caused their parents no end of stress, but I never really had cause to complain. That’s not to say we didn’t have our rough spots. Round about December you made it really hard for me to give you structure, and for a while I just didn’t know what to do. And that week in February when I couldn’t figure out how to work with you, when I had no idea how to move forward—that was really scary. But we worked through it, Theesums, and I think we’re stronger for it.

And now there’s nothing else I can do for you, Thesis; you’re on your own. I can’t believe I’m sending you off to strangers! They’ll judge you, I know, but I don’t want you to worry. I used to hope you would make me proud, but that doesn’t matter to me that much anymore. I’m proud of you no matter what, and never forget that!

You’re starting to fidget, so I’ll stop embarrassing you and let you go. Be polite, but always speak your mind. Never forget where you came from. Goodbye, Thesis!

Oh, and watch out for bookworms!

M. Aidan Kelly ’08, a former magazine chair, is a history and literature concentrator in Cabot House.