I wrote God a few weeks ago, but he's a lousy pen-pal. No response, not even an e-mail. Sheeesh. Guess he's busy. Maybe I have the wrong address. Would you check for me? I haven't written you in a long while, so please excuse my poor manners.
I had a poignant memory of you today and wish your were closer, so we could have shared it together. I'm sure you feel the same way. It's silly really, but I got home from work today and our kitchen is totally finished. And I thought of you immediately. Instead of sitting in the new kitchen, I went outside and listened to the wind howl and watch the neighborhood trees contort. I remembered when you remodeled your kitchen and the pride you shared with us when you finished the project. You were so happy and felt so good about what you accomplished. We feel the same way, and I know some our success and accomplishment is due to you. So thanks for showing us the way. I just wish you could come over and have a cup a coffee and a long chat. A chat about anything. But you can't come over and I totally understand. But I can still wish it, right?
"C" is sitting at the peninsula doing her homework. The light is so good, it makes even doing homework feel nice. So you can imagine how cooking makes us feel. Mom, I can see you helping make the turkey at Thanksgiving. It makes a great mental picture, even if it won't happen this year. Mom, you would absolutely drop dead (sorry, awkward wording...) to see how much she's grown since you last saw her. She's starting to be a young woman, although most of the time she's still just a girl. She's so gentle, I wonder how I could be her dad, given that I'm an ox. But wondering aside, I'm really glad I am. Dad, she'd melt you in a minute, you softy. So far, were doing pretty good with her.
And "W"? He's great. Dad, he can throw a ball like no one's business. And he can draw! At seven, he puts pencil to paper and ideas just take shape. Is it wrong to be jealous of your kid's talent? And origami... he folds paper into shapes so graceful, intricate, and delicate. I'm in awe of his care and craft. Both kids miss each of you. Almost as much as I do.
So, that's about it. For today, anyway. I think of you far more often than I write. And I know you can't write as often as you wish, so don't feel bad. You would if you could. I hope you are happy and well. Say 'hi' to my brother, but I'm still mad at him. Love him, yes. Like him? Not yet. And if you see God, would you tell him I'm not writing until he does!