I wrote a letter to my daughter. A love letter, really. I’ve always been good with words, but only written words. I find it very difficult to articulate my feelings out loud. I’d like to think I’m getting better at telling people how I feel, but I’ve never been good at it. I am a very emotional person, but I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. That’s the quickest way to get that thing broken, believe me I know. So, it’s rare that I actually tell my daughter how completely amazing I think she is. She is eighteen and lives away from home now. And, as much as I love her, its best that we live apart – at least, for a little while. That certainly doesn’t stop me from loving her and marvelling at the person she’s become. In fact, I marvel at the person she’s become in spite of all the enormous and embarrassing mistakes I made while she was growing up. I’m not going to list them here – that’s what therapy is for. Suffice it to say, she is a caring, loving, compassionate, smart, funny, helpful, thoughtful, curious, honest individual who is an excellent writer, picks up languages like most people pick up pizza, and has no qualms about shovelling the poop of twenty dogs for a morning. (I do know how ridiculous that run-on sentence is, but that’s how it’s going to stay.) It shouldn’t be hard to tell her how wonderful I think she is. However, as previously stated, I find it really difficult to tell anyone, out loud, how wonderful I think they are. So, I write letters. A letter takes time. I can strike out a word, or a whole sentence, and start over until the words are just right. In a letter I’m erudite. In a letter my words convey just the right emotions, just the right images. The trick after putting the feelings to paper is to send the letter. Which I usually do. And, I did send the one to my daughter – in a care package with chocolate from her grandfather and a CD from her uncle. She knows I love her – I always tell her that – it’s the other stuff that’s harder to say. I’m not sure why. I’m just glad I’m a relatively competent writer, otherwise no one would ever know how I feel about them.