dear pratt.

dear pratt,

when i was little i realized something. something i know to be true to this very day.

my dad...your poppy...is the smartest man i know. (you, rightfully so, will think that your daddy is the smartest man you know. and it will be true. you'll be right. so as you get bigger, you'll understand this specific letter more and more.)

back to poppy.

i rode in the car with him a lot. he would drive us to the golf course. or up to his office. or to the corner store to get a racing form. or to the cul de sac off sharp street. where he would go in circles until cookie wet her pants. yes, that's a true story. oh...and he'd drive to sonic. backwards. in reverse.

anyway, one day we pulled up to a stop light. and he looked over at me and said (and this is all clear as day to me), "han, keep your eyes on the stoplight."

and then he preceeded to count backwards.

"three. two. one. CHANGE!"

and magically the light would go from red to green. like, as soon as he said, "change!", it would...and it'd immediately be green.

unreal. he'll do it for you one day, i'm sure. you'll be amazed. he's like a magician.

another thing about him. he is the all time best jeopardy player. he knows all kind of weird and crazy stuff. stuff you'll never have heard about...he'll know all about it.

he is so wise. his letters have gotten me through many, many situations.

he left me the greatest note in my binder the day he took me to college my freshman year. it's one of my favorites. it starts out, "dear hannah. i know you'll cry as you read this. i'm crying now..." i was standing in my dorm room bathroom, sobbing. wishing that i didn't have to be a big girl. and that i could just live at home forever.

my second favorite was the one he wrote me the day i graduated from college. he wrote among other things, "find some way to help others. it is in helping others that your own happiness is assured."

oh, he's so smart.

for part of my birthday present from him, he wrote you a letter. this may not make sense to you right now. but once you become a parent...and you have kids of your own, you'll understand.

okay. so here is your letter.

August, 2009

Pratt,

Your mother has been aftger me to write you a letter. She is one of those "box" people who keeps a box near her bed where she saves everything that's ever been sent to her in the mail, or left by her bed, by her friends or family.

Reading what's in her box makes her smile and laugh, but mostly it makes her cry. She cries a lot. I'm not sure why; but it's probably my fault. There is this thing called DNA that children get from their parents that makes them look alike, and sometimes act alike. More about that later.

I heard this song not long ago, and I thought about you and me. I'm planning on being around to see you grow up, and get a box to put letters in to save and later read and cry. But you never know about those things. So, reluctantly, I have decided that sending you a few letters might be a good idea. After all, I know you will have a box, and will need to have something to put in it. And, I'm not sure that I will live forever -- although that's the plan.

So, here's the song, written by a cowboy singer from Texas named Waylon Jennings. He's dead, but I will save some of his records for you to listen to. Your daddy likes him too, so he will probably listen with you. Be careful, he sometimes likes to sing along. I think he thinks he is a good singer.

I changed some of the words so it would help me to tell you how I feel about you and me.

It goes like this:

"I've got a couple of more years on you Pratt, and that's all. I've had more chances to fly and more places to fall.

It's not that I'm wiser. It's just that I've spent more time with my back to the wall. And I've picked up a couple more years on you Pratt, that's all.

I've walked a couple more roads than you Pratt, and that's all. And I'm tired of running while you're only learning to crawl.

You're going somewhere, and I've been to somewhere and found, it was nowhere at all. And I've picked up a couple more years on you Pratt, and that's all.

Saying goodbye to you Pratt won't ever come easy at all. You want to fly cause you hear them young eagles call.

Someday when you're older, you'll think of me, and smile at some young man, strong and tall. You'll say, I've got a couple more years on you boy, and that's all.

It's not that I'm wiser. It's just that I've spent more time with my back to the wall. And I've picked up a couple of more years on you Pratt, and that's all."

In a few weeks, you will be one year old. Happy Birthday.

Always be kind, and your life will be rich.

Poppy.

i'm crying as i read that. of course i am. i always cry. he said that :)

it took me several attempts to the get through the entire letter the first time i read it.

he gave it to me at my birthday party on friday night.

i didn't make it through the entire thing until sunday.

i got hung up at the part about waylon jennings being a texas cowboy.

and then i got hung up again in the lyrics. the part about saying goodbye to you.

but your daddy didn't really have dry eyes at the end of it either. if i remember correctly, as i was sobbing, blowing my nose, wiping my eyes...your daddy said, "yeah....that's a good one."

i'll second what poppy said...be kind. and your life shall be rich.

i love you little man,

mommy.