The Moment
Eli 17.0 had a senior retreat last weekend.The school wanted us to write these gushingly sentimental letters that the kids would read while they were at the retreat.
I'm not good with manufactured moments.
To me, real moments are made out of hundreds of smaller moments. It's a building process, not a lightning strike. Trying to generate these moments seems a bit phony to me.
I thought about it for a while, though, and came up with an idea. This was the letter.
Ahoy, matey! Greetings from your old sea dog.
It's been quite a voyage, my boy. You've grown from the littlest landlubber into the fiercest pirate on the high seas, and you still have the same gleam in your eyes as the day you saw your first doubloon. I still remember our first treasure hunt like it was yesterday, and you'll have many more. It's all gold out there, if you know where to look.
The first day I saw you with a cutlass, just moving about, I thought "Shiver me timbers! He's a swashbuckler!" Then, long days learning your skills with the blade. Heavy seas, the black spot, skullduggery, hornswagglers--it's all come to naught against you, and those sea legs just get stronger.
Now you're about to haul wind, and you need to bring a spring upon her cable. Ye can do it, my lad, I know ye can.
You're no blasted crimper, and you've never found glory in another man's pain. You give no quarter in combat, but once it's done, you've never made even the scurviest of dogs walk the plank. Rare qualities, my boy, enough to put a tear in my eye.
You'll be weighing anchor for your own galleon soon. I'll be proud to call you Cap'n someday, and no lily-livered son of a biscuit eater will stand in your way. You can count on this drivelswigger to always be a heartie, my boy.
Here's to an island where we only have coconuts and the deep blue sea to keep us company, and Davy Jones' locker is far, far away. Heave ho, my lad! Heave ho!
Love,
Dad
<< Home