Dear Grandpa B and Grandpa D:
It's been three years since you both died, and I think about you a lot still. I think that you would be quite proud of me, not only because I've gotten really good at ice hockey (6+ points last season) and it turns out I'm pretty good at law school; because I'm nice to my big sister now, and just generally because of who I've turned out to be. But I think you also would be quite proud of me in other ways.
I eat brown rice now. Seriously. Yeah, I still love the white fluffy rice that comes in a bowl at a chinese food restaurant. But at home, I make brown rice. Because I hope you were right and I will live longer.
I try anything now. Seriously. The only thing I still won't eat are pickles, anything with mayonaise, and olives. But I'll try whatever somebody puts in front of me, and I won't make a face.
I eat vegetables. Lots of them. I just finished frying up some kind of weird squash thing.
I eat pepper. And spices. Seriously. Put 'em on everything. Can't live without 'em.
I eat the crusts off my sandwiches. My hair isn't really curly, like you always promised, so I have to conclude that you lied.
I eat mushrooms. Again, really. Marinated and sauted, raw in sandwiches, anything.
I clean my plate. I am almost always a member of the clean plate club. The key is to not put so much on your plate that it's hard to clean it.
I still love chocolate. And ginger snaps. And Opa cookies. Which taste better when you eat them sitting on a rock by a creek. Some things don't change.
I miss you both.