The Budget of Paradox

Dear Sophia,

I hope these words find you well. It’s been quite some time since we last spoke or saw each other, and I want you to know how much I miss you and think about you every day.

First and foremost, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. My love for you is unwavering and unconditional, and nothing can change that. You are my precious daughter, and my love for you only grows stronger with each passing day.

I understand that things between us have not been easy lately, and I want to acknowledge your feelings and experiences. I know that it might be hard for you to understand why we ended up in this situation, and I want you to know that I take full responsibility for my part in it. I’m truly sorry for any pain or confusion I may have caused you.

You are growing into a remarkable young woman, and I couldn’t be prouder of the person you are becoming. I admire your strength, your intelligence, and your compassion. I want nothing more than to be a part of your life and to support you in every way I can.

I know that healing and rebuilding trust will take time, and I’m willing to be patient. I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk or spend time together. My greatest hope is that we can find a way to reconnect and build a loving, meaningful relationship again.

Please remember that I’m just a phone call or message away. If you ever want to talk or share your thoughts and feelings, I’m here to listen. Your happiness and well-being mean everything to me.

I understand that this blog post might not instantly mend the wounds between us, but I hope it can be a first step towards reconciliation. Please know that I cherish you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be a part of your life again.

With all my love,

Dad

Sophia,
Back in April, I wrote this page about summer camp. Yeah, I know, it was already pretty late in the season at that point. Even if you wanted to go to Green Cove, it might have been too late.

Next summer, you’ll be 15 and maybe you won’t care about summer camps anymore. But, I just looked: Green Cove has programs for girls up to age 17. The summer of 2024 probably seems like a million miles away. But it’s never too early to plan something big.

Anyway, give it some thought. Please go re-read the page I made in April.

I’m trying to do what I can to contribute to your success. I wish I could do so much more. When your mother and I first started our family, I envisioned that my kids would speak at least one language other than English. I don’t mean 45-minute classes in school. I mean, REALLY speak it, fluently. I envisioned that my kids would be able to skip at least one grade in math. When I had to leave for Iraq, I was already in the process of getting Morey’s Second Grade math book from her future teachers. I was going teach her Second Grade math while she was still in First Grade, and try to eventually get her to skip a grade, at least in math.

That was the plan, anyway. I enjoy tutoring math. Anyway, sorry, I’m getting off-track. I’m just thinking about all the dreams I had once, now abandoned. I wanted very badly to have a positive influence on your life. I still want it. But there’s very little I can do from here.

Next summer, if you can’t get a passport to visit me, you might as well do something extraordinary. I have some faith that Green Cove is a great camp if you want to try it. You need to learn to be on your own. Your mother wants you to be safe. I want you to be strong. Anyone can be safe if they never leave home and never get out of bed. I want you to contend with the world and learn how to handle it.

Talk to me, Goose.

Dad

My dear Sophia,
One thing I miss about the USA is the long drives in the desert. Sure, there are long highways in the deserts of the UAE. But it’s not the same. Plus, there are so many places I wish I could show you: places I discovered when I was young man.

Interstate 10: the Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway

Of all the freeways in the American interstate highway system, Interstate 10 holds a special place in my heart. It crosses the USA, from the Atlantic Ocean in Florida to the Pacific Ocean in California. There’s something symbolic about those terminals. Few other highways can make that claim. I drove it completely a few times when I was young. It’s a long, tough road. Interstate 10 was always exciting; it always meant “going somewhere”. For example, when I was in college in Arizona, I took Interstate 10 to get to Santa Barbara, California when I was dating my first wife. The city of Blythe is on Interstate 10; it’s where we found Blythe the Dog. She died before you were born, but Morey remembers her. She was a stray at a gas station in Blythe.

Here’s some trivia that most people in the east don’t know: Interstate 10 is also known as the Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway. But the only signs you’ll ever see with that name are in California. I always liked that name.

Interstate 10 in the desert near Blythe

When I was kid, Columbus was a hero. Of course, today, as I understand, kids in school are taught that he was an evil racist colonizer. Whatever. I mean, that was 500 years ago. I still like the name of Interstate 10.

I’d love to go on a Great American Road Trip with you someday. Hit the 10, the open road, cruising through the Sonoran Desert and Coachella Valley, the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the green fields of Palm Springs. They say the journey is half the trip. I say it’s the whole enchilada. I’ll even let you pick out the music.

I miss you, kid. I think about these things all the time.