Editor’s note: The following letter was written as part of an assignment for a class project during my sophomore year in college. It was the 2001-2002 school year.
I was 19 years old.
The two-page letter sits in a three-ring binder among a collection of other letters, essays, photos, milestones and mementos that encapsulate the making of me. Someday, I will present the binder to my precious Parker.
Today, with Father’s Day approaching, I present one of those letters to my father. I do not know his name.
This letter has been lightly edited for clarity.
Dear “Dad,”