You used to be a cheerleader. I try not to judge you about that fact. But I can’t help it. You were one of those girls. Beautiful, popular and bold.

You could flip in the air and land with the greatest of ease. You still do that, but not in a gym. At the office, at home, on a farm in France. You are a cheerleader for your family. For me. I pulled out this letter you sent back in college. Who says you should stop looking in the past?

Dear Peter,

Things are great here in Miami. I’m engaged! Yes, that’s how great things are. But I’m concerned because he’s poor and short and Lebanese. So, then, how could I have fallen in love with him?  Is it possible to be in love with this man and still be racist? I’ve never used the N word and he’s not African American. But if I fell in love with one, well it would be this all over again.

Well, I’m just engaged so there’s still hope for me, I guess. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Love Binda

Well, Binda,we know how it all turned out. You married Brian and you have it all. And I don’t think you’re racist. Not very. I look around the world and think you are the least racist person I know.

Love,

Peter