Much too Much

Dear Son,

I'm not writing you letters as oft as I should . . . (should - thats a tricky word. I don't think it's a matter of should, per say - so much as it is as much as I'd like.) The thing is - you're up and about now . . . walking. And the world seen from traveling at your speed - is so much more rewarding, beautiful, satisfying, . . . perfect - than it ever can be with myself sitting in front of this computer - writing words to you that I whisper already in your ear every day.

I love you