Dear Margaret...As i write this, the three of us have survived several blocks of San Francisco just a couple of weeks ago together. I remember my arms trembling from the weight of carrying you, a Sanfo-themed snowglobe, and this big-ass TV disguised as a laptop on my back, which i am using right this very minute.
You were tired, too. In fact, you were so tired that you fell asleep in my arms, while we were walking. It was a good feeling, by the way. But that’s not why i’m writing here now.
I’m writing to thank you.
A couple or so years from now, you should start remembering events in your life. You might actually start remembering the exact color of purple that Barney is. You might start remembering things and places you’ve been. So when you really get down to it, it was possibly pointless for you to be here in California with us right now at merely a year and a half old.
Possibly...
Possibly pointless, because you won’t remember your mother squinting her eyes at the sight of the Golden Gate through the thick fog on the cruise boat. Possibly pointless that you won't remember seeing Alcatraz across the waters and how you will compare it with marriage later on in life... Possibly pointless, because you won’t remember the beautiful sunset that we watched in Monterey... possibly...
But no. It wasn’t pointless. Not in the least.
It wasn’t pointless, because it was worth carrying you several blocks around San Francisco just to hear you giggle at the littlest things. It wasn’t pointless, because having you around meant that anywhere we went will never be boring. It wasn’t pointless, because i loved watching you waving at me through the rearview mirror everytime, no matter how boring the freeway got...
So yes. Thank you, Margaret.
And hopefully, by the time you read this, you will at least remember that at a year and a half, you will remember that we kept you laughing and smiling halfway across the world. And you probably won’t thank us, but will probably ask us to bring you back here again.
We will.
Love,
Dad 
