Moment of glee when I see a card addressed to me!
Answering to friends near and far.
Imagine a world with no computers.
Love texts? Love tweets? Love letters.

The Closer
———–

He sneaks in,
Sidles up, paper in hand.
(I may be working.)

Tenders his request,
In written form.

These little notes,
“Dear Dad,  ….”
begin …

And then 
his wish, 
his want, 
his need,
expressed in child’s script.
The letters, each and every one,
Prepared to share, to ask,
To generate the magic answer “Yes.”  

More time for Hope,
you see,
Between the asking and the answer,
When you sit and write it down.

More time for Hope,
you see,
When you ask for paper and a pen,
A kind of warm-up act,
the question yet to come.

A toy, perhaps.
A visit to the Y,
A bike ride.
(A toy, again.)
These little wants,
These simple, tiny things.

The letter’s letters make it harder to say “No,”
Than if he’d simply asked.

Where has the spontaneity gone?
What pressing great constraints make it so hard for a father to say “Yes,”
To give his son that simple confidence,
That he can ask,
And his wish will be done?

(Granted, we’re trying to teach discipline, too. 
And that you can’t always have everything that you want,
Or not always at the moment of wanting.
We always agree that there’s a real problem with that.)

But still.

He ends the notes, most times,
Regardless of the query,
With closing,
“Love ….”

And then, a postscript,
Closing line,
The back-up plan,
The failsafe.
Always guaranteed.
In case the first, is “No,” or “Not Today.”

This one will evermore and always prompt a “Yes.”

“P.S. … Can I have a hug?”