Dear cicadas,

It’s been seventeen long years since you’ve last emerged from your boroughs in the ground. Would it shock you to hear it was just seventeen years ago that I, Charlotte Guy, emerged from my mother’s womb? Yes, believe it or not, we’re the same age. 

Ever since I was a wee babe, I was told the legends of the biblical plague known as Brood-X. The chronicles of your incessant chattering, the infernal red hue of your eyes, and your omnipresence were the subject of many nightmares from the ages four to nine.  

You had me convinced I would be barring myself up in my room and attending school on Skype from my iPad mini (haha, that didn’t age well). But I don’t blame you clumsy little perverts. I mean, how could I? 

Seventeen long years of growing in the ground only to scream, have orgies, and die a month later…Well, maybe that’s not so horrible. 

Plus, you incestual weirdos are honestly so helpful. You’re pretty much a natural alarm clock—and a good one at that. Your inharmonious cacophony wakes me up oh so bright and early on those beautiful Sunday mornings. Catch up on sleep? Never heard of her! 

Also, you have single-handedly made every outdoor experience of mine from the past three weeks a thrill. Dodging your hurdling lifeforms is not an easy task but I have never been one to shy away from a challenge. Even better, I never know when you’re going to decide to drop on my head and bum a ride to meet potential suitors. 

I do have one issue with all of you. You didn’t really live up to the hype. I was expecting a dystopian novel: cicadas on every and any visible surface, swarms getting stuck in my hair, crop failures from your insatiable appetites, and the decibel level of a Harley Davidson convention. But just half of those came true. 

So far only five of you have gotten caught in my luscious locks, you only cover vertical surfaces (weak) and your melody is only so loud under specific trees. Luckily, I have one of said trees right next to my room. Jealous? Yeah, I thought so. 

As our time together starts to wrap up and your rotting bodies decompose into the soil, I just wanted to reflect on all we’ve been through together. Your ”live hard, not long” lifestyle has truly inspired me—more than my 12 years of education have—and I will never forget you. 

Sayonara my loves. My kids will be hearing about you.•

Kind regards, 

Your not-so-secret admirer

Charlotte Guy