Dearest Israel,
You were born three years ago on this day, in this diamond of the High Plains we still currently reside – today is your birthday and you are three years old.
Another sweet and delightful year, in which you have grown so much – in a like manner, I have come to know you so much better. With this, the passage of your third year, I have been granted further insight into the person you are becoming – that is, the person you were born to be.
Closing my eyes and opening my thoughts to the manifold moments which have passed between us over these last twelve months, I can scarcely encapsulate the vast range of emotions that well up inside of me. You, my son, are close to my heart and I love you dearly.
I am writing this warbling missive to you in the still-dark-quiet of early morning – an hour of day that seems to reflect you quite well. Quiet and docile, but ever brimming with the potentiality of tarpaulin power and energy – which, at times, cannot be so easily contained and pours out of you in some raging torrent. You are a fascinating mixture of temperament and inclination, one that continues to elude my understanding – even as you grow more complex.
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