Letter from My Father.Posted: March 21, 2012
My Dearest Daughter,
You are the apple of my eye, my pride my joy.
Your blue eyes are mine, your pale skin and dark hair, your skinny little self.
You follow me like a puppy. How I adore you.
Your talent takes my breath away. I want for you to continue in your artistic path, following in my footsteps.
The pen set and the angles are not usual gifts for an eight-year old, I know, but the proper tools are important for a job well done.
The skating rink, the tree swing, the snow hills–all for you, from me with love.
The things I don’t say that I mean, forgive me in my adult ways.
The expectations, I hope they have not been too much. You are so close to perfect.
Thank you for shining my shoes, my black dress shoes, every Saturday morning.
Remember watching the lumber yard burn, remember flying kites on the top of the hill, remember the summer concerts in the park and the family picnics. Remember swimming in the stone pool and how we swam across the lake together.
Remember how I always held the door open for you, and introduced you to my business and political friends.
Remember how you understood my dry humor; you thought I did not notice your demure smile, but I looked for it, and I smiled to myself in return.
Read my Profiles in Courage and To Kill a Mockingbird books. They are my favorites.
I’m sorry that I could not look you in the eye. You were always too smart for your years.
I’m sorry, too, that your uncle burned this letter before you could read it.
Fortunately, I have left these words upon your soul, the fine fragile soul I left you.
With love always,