Dear Wigleaf,

The smartest person I've ever met is my father. He can play a 12-string guitar and he's learning to weld and he has a PhD in computer science.

As his daughter, does this reflect well on me? Is that why I say it? I know very few of the things he knows, I can do almost none of the things he does, but nature or nurture, something must have transferred, right? At least 50% of me is him, or exactly 50% of me is him. I am ~50% of the smartest man I know. I am ~50% of a good father.

I want to be like my father. I did not always. I have hated him when it was right to. I have despised him, never for things he did, but for things he would not do, ways he did not protect me, kindnesses he thought best to keep from me. I do not understand him, but I am old enough, 25 years old enough, to let it go. Now I can be grateful, objective, and I can love him, you, evenly.

Oh Wigleaf, I meant to write you a letter, but somehow I've turned you into my father. Dear Wigleaf! Dear Dad! Maybe that is what I should work on next. Not making everyone into a parent. Not interpreting the world through the lens of my cradled need.

Listen. I want to be like my father. I want to be like a father. I want to want and never need.

Someday,
Kyra