The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,
A few days ago, I got to see fireworks on a warm beach when the new year began. I hope you got to see some fireworks. You’re probably in Lynchburg where it’s cold. But hopefully you’re in some place warm. Maybe next year, you and I can sit together on the beach and watch the fireworks. Nothing would make me happier.

Thinking of you, always,
Dad

Joyous Kwanzaa my little spawn. It’s Christmas Day. I went swimming this morning. It reminded me that when I lived in Hawaii, I’d always make a point of swimming on Christmas Day so I could tell my friends back home who were stuck in the snow and freezing cold. I wanted that for my kids, too. And yet, there you are in Lynchburg where it’s currently 34 degrees. So sad.

At least, I think you’re in Lynchburg. But I really don’t know.

Things were a lot different when your family lived in Hawaii. A lot different.

Happy Christmas, SoBe

p.s. What’s funny is that when I first visited Lynchburg, I was told it was the coldest winter in 10 years. And the second time I visited, I was told it was the coldest winter in 20 years. The town just hates me. But, whatever. I hate it right back.

Sophia, when you’re older, I hope you have the courage and the gumption to get to know me again. I love you until the last beat of my heart.
Dad

sophia zander grace becker,lynchburg,morey,sophia z. becker

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

Dagmar,
It’s almost Christmas Eve. I hope you have a Joyous Christmas. You and I only spent one Christmas together. That was in 2009 and, obviously, you were too young to remember.

I’m not sure I have anything more to say. You know that I love you and miss you. You have a father who would love to sit down with you and listen to everything you have to say. I want to be there on Christmas morning, and all the other important mornings. You’re 16 now, but still a little too young maybe to know that the world isn’t supposed to be like this. I shouldn’t have to hire a lawyer and fight some other lawyer in front of some idiot judge just to spend a little bit of time with my own children. Things shouldn’t be like this.

I didn’t send you anything for Christmas because I’ve sent you lots of gifts in the past, and I have no idea if you ever received any of them.

I owe you so much. The world owes you. You’re an unwilling creditor. Let me get out of debt.

Thinking of you, always, but especially on days like this.

Dad