The Budget of Paradox

Morey Percy,
I know, I know. You made it clear a few years ago that you refuse to talk to me ever again. But, I know you have a valid passport. And I know that you and I have more history than I do with your sister. Maybe I have an edge here. I was eating at a Denny’s recently. And it reminded me that you and I used to sneak out of the house on Willow Lawn at 3:00 AM and go to the IHOP in Lynchburg. I know you remember that.

I know you know I’m not the terrible monster your mother has painted me to be. I know you remember some of the wonderful things we did together. Flying, hiking, surfing, horseback riding in the desert, and IHOP at 3:00 AM.

You have a passport. You can be in Mexico City in four hours. Or Istanbul in eight hours. Quite literally, I could meet you anytime — in a day or two — for dinner. Just say the word and I will arrange it. I made this blog primarily for your sister, but I’d love to see you, too. I’d love to sit down for dinner and listen to anything you have to say.

It’s Christmas Eve. I didn’t send you anything. But it’s not for a lack of love. I don’t know what you want or even where you live.

Joyous Kwanzaa, my shorty,
Dad