This post is a response to October’s mid-month short story challenge. Click on the link in the previous sentence to read the prompt, share your story, and read those written by others.


As you’ll eventually find out, I’m not exactly the best at keeping my thoughts concise, especially when my emotions or creative writing are involved. This is neither your fault nor your problem, but you’ll likely get annoyed by it at some point in the time that you know me. Have fun with that.

I like change — except when I don’t. If something changes that has a minimal impact on me, I’m usually fine with it. Change can be good. If the way we communicate didn’t evolve, you’d never be able to read this. I have garbage handwriting. But things did change. That’s a good thing.

On the other hand, if that change negatively impacts the safety, security, or well-being of those I care about, I’m less okay with change. I’m not exactly the person I wish myself to be when bad change happens. I stress. I falter. I hold fear deep within my mind. I don’t back down from any challenge, however I am the type to obsessively scrutinize every detail of that challenge in my mind until I keep myself from sleep at night.

I hope that’s not one of the traits I give you. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot I do well. I feel like I have accrued the wisdom to act in a moral, ethical, and just way in most situations. I have a natural talent to pick up most communication-heavy jobs and excel in them faster than most people can get comfortable doing that same job. I used to be an adept musician. I adore geography, writing, psychology, chemistry, philosophy, and history. I’d love for you to get those things from me.

Your mother, on the other hand, is the better person to learn from. She knows how to interact with people — real people, not just the facades of people that can be found on the internet. She’s extremely competitive, even more so than me. She’s organized to a level that gives me anxiety. She has a natural talent to take a moment and use it both as a teaching experience and a moment of consoling. You’d definitely be better off if you inherited her level of love for animals…though I’d encourage you to take after me and my love for cats. Cats are fun.

Neither of us are perfect. And if all you become is the combination of your mother and I, there’s been somewhere along the way that I’ve let you down. The hardest thing for me to learn was how to think for myself — to critically and objectively see the world not just through my own cultural lens, but also with the hopes, dreams, and ambitions of those who do not have the same luxuries I do in mind.

You’ll find that despite whatever experience I have in teaching and leading, I’m very green in knowing how to handle you. My emotions failed me when your mom told me of your existence. Ignoring the fact that I was exhausted and starving, I didn’t know how to react. My excitement was less than enthusiastic. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. You are a change. An exciting one, sure. But one I didn’t (and frankly still don’t totally) know how to handle.

There’s always been this thought in my mind that I’d be a dad. At times, the thought was nothing more than a blip in the vision of my mind — waiting, watching, stalking my thoughts in the distance. In other situations, the idea was much more prominent. Reality, of course, is far more prominent than a thought. The reality that we — our family — face is complex.

The world isn’t the place it once was, nor is it the place that will be in the future. We’re at a crossroads of history. It’s one where I truly believe that those who are compassionate, open-minded, accepting, altruistic, and well-learned will help to shape the future into a brighter world for everyone. My hope is that I can play a significant part in pointing you in the right direction so that you can be even better than those people who I just spoke of.

At some point, I will make a mistake in teaching you. I will yell when I shouldn’t. I will say something you interpret improperly. I will hurt you with my words when I don’t mean to. For that, I am so sorry in advance. Know that as you are learning, I too am learning. I’m learning how to help you learn. I’m learning how to help you be a better person than I could ever be — a person who is exceptional not just for their abilities, interests, and skills, but also for the way they treat their fellow humans.

This is my promise to you. I will help you acquire as many of the tools as possible to be the best person you can be. I will protect you when you need protection. I will guide you when you wish to learn. Above all else, I will love you so that you may love others in return.

You are safe. You are wise. You are loved.



  1. Etta says:

    The greatest irony of brevity is that it is not as important if you physically write a letter to someone because the art of writing delivers far greater value than letters typed out electronically – as if suggesting that the more involved the writing process, the more gratifying it feels for the reader to consume these contents.

    That’s what life of convenience taught me among many things. 🙂

    • Tim says:

      I’m not particularly a fan of the form that is a letter. Aside from the handwritten aspect (which, considering my handwriting, isn’t an appeal to me), it’s an art that is very much in the vein of “this happened…and then this…and then this…”. It’s quite difficult to tell a good story with a letter. Which is precisely why I thought this would be a good exercise.

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