The Lunchbox Notes

Journal

I wore my dad's handwriting to my first job interview. It got me the job. Well — it got me through the door.

For twelve years, my dad packed my lunch. Every box had a note. 'You've got this, kiddo.' 'Proud of you today, and every day.'

I kept them all. Four hundred and twelve notes in a shoebox under my bed.

The night before the interview, I sat on the floor with the shoebox and read every single one. Then I had an idea.

I had his best note printed on a hoodie. 'You've got this, kiddo.' In his handwriting. I wore it under my blazer.

Halfway through, my hands were shaking. I put them in my pockets and felt the words through the fabric.

I got the job. I called him from the front steps and read him the note through the tears. He said, 'I told you, kiddo.'

Four hundred and twelve notes. Now there's a hoodie, too. Some pep talks you wear.