A small fraction of the average human life span.
The blink of an eye in the history of time.
About a year ago I decided to try to write you a letter each week for a year. And now fifty-two weeks and letters later, I am done.
In many ways I suspect these letters reveal more about me than about you or your sisters. I spent part of the last year in physical therapy fixing my creaky body. My physical therapist, a talented young woman named Sharon, would laugh at me every week. “You address the letters to Mackenzie,” she would say, “and then you write about you”.
Sharon was probably right, but that’s okay. Maybe subconsciously that was no accident. How you and I will experience each other when you’re an adult and I’m an old man is different than how we experience each other now, when you’re still very young and I’m still reasonably vibrant. I wanted to capture that snapshot for both of us. I hope I did.
So these letters are about you and the world as I experienced you both in 2012. No more and no less.
52 weeks of my thoughts about life, love, courage, faith, family, and how to negotiate a bigger allowance.
52 weeks of meditations about your place in my heart, and hopefully about my place in yours.
52 weeks of lessons for the both of us to learn.
May these letters guide you and comfort you.
May they give you a boost and a helping hand as you go through life.
May they bring abundant joy and a couple of smiles to you and your sisters, and to your future families.
May they forever remind you how much your amazing mom and I love you guys with every breath we take.
Many years ago when I was just a boy, I was sitting around with your great-grandma Granny Goldberg and your great-grandma Lilly. “May you live to a hundred and twenty”, Granny Goldberg said at one point. Your great-grandma Lilly smiled and replied, “and why would you limit him to only a hundred and twenty?” She was only half kidding.
By the time you’re the age I am as I write to you now, most likely your mom and I won’t be physically around. But if we are, my sweet daughter, we’ll remind you to be bold and courageous. We’ll remind you to dare and to risk. We’ll remind you to love fully and profoundly. We’ll remind you to be kind and considerate. And most importantly, we’ll remind you to see life for the amazing adventure that it is.
When I set out to write you these letters, I never imagined the personal fulfillment and satisfaction I myself would get from writing them. But in the end, the joy that you, Heather, Jamie, and your wonderful mom give me each and every day is more than should even be legal.
Now and forever, of thee I sing.
All my everlasting love,