Dearest Margaret...
Dad has been quite tired lately. For better or worse, there are way too many places i have to be, too many people I have to see, and too many things people think I can and have to do. And there’s only one of me.
If there could be more of me, the me that writes this would be with you.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you and mom. I’m sorry that i let so many other people take my time. Time that is yours to have, time that is supposed to be ours to share. Time i instead gave to others who gave themselves to those who would be our supposed gods in cities infested with creatures with more faces than any truth would allow.
Time i gave to keep building a house of cards i reinforce with little more than dreams that i keep dreaming, and a passion that refuses to stop burning bright despite the storms that pour upon me. One day, this house of cards will finally be a house where the walls can be touched, and the floors can be danced upon. Please be patient and be there when this one day arrives. This is for you.
This is all for you.
And though I may not always be there to hold you, always know that I love you very much.
Love,
Dad
