The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,

I’m thinking of you always, but especially during your last week of school. I hope it goes well. When I was about your age, my father would take me out to a late lunch on the last day of school. It was a brief tradition. I’m sorry I won’t be taking you out for lunch next Friday.

I wish I knew what you were doing this summer.

More than a year ago, I wrote this post about a summer camp. But I suppose maybe you’re now too old to consider going to summer camp.

I’m working in Africa, but I can be in Athens or Rome at a moment’s notice. Get a passport. I’ll meet you in Rome. I recently posted some photos from Rome on IG. I hiked through the city about ten years ago. Seriously, if you have some free time this summer, get a passport and I’ll fly you to Rome for a long weekend. We’ll have fun. And if your mom says I’ll kidnap you, tell her, “Yes, and he’ll make me happy.”

And then I’ll send you back home.

God, I really hope you’re not sitting at home this summer, bored out of your mind, taking anti-depressants. We could connect and do crazy shit and eat sushi and see cool stuff. What a waste.

Dad

Sophia,
You’re taking French, right? How do you pronounce Ouagadougou? I’m not sure of the proper way to say it. My version sounds like “wag-a-DOO-goo”. Or how about Djibouti? I just say, “ja-BOOTY”.

Shitholes with interesting French names.

Did you know that more people speak French in Africa than in Europe? But from what I understand, African French sounds rough and dirty to the French. I wouldn’t doubt it.

I’m in Africa now, still getting used to it.

Dad

Sophia,
On Saturday, May 25, 2024, you’ll be exactly 15 years and six months old. You’ll be old enough to get a learner’s permit to drive in Virginia. Will you do it? I wish I was there to teach you to drive.

Get your license when you’re 16. I’ll buy you a car. Okay, an old used one. But maybe.

I wish I was there.

Dad

Sophia,

You’re absent from school today. I wish I knew why. I hope you’re okay. I’d love to call to check-in with you. I wish we could talk.

Also, I was watching a movie last night. A father who had been gone for most of his daughter’s life was teaching her to ride a bike in Paris. This scene really cut to the bone. It hurts that I can’t be with you.

Your mother and I have been on those very same steps in the movie clip. FYI, if you care.

I love you,
Dad

Sophia,

HERE is a song I was listening to earlier. It has a strange title: Sigh’s Smell of Farewell. I’m not sure it really means anything.

I’m just thinking of you today. I would love to hear from you.

Dad.