This morning you were sitting on the cockpit cushion of our Tartan 42 sailboat which is moored in Dinner Key South of Miami, FL, and I snapped this picture.
When I looked at the picture, I wanted to write this letter to you because some day you are going to be 42 years old and you will be feeling the pressure of whatever corporate conglomerate you have become a part of, the pressure to produce, the pressure to comply, the pressure to succumb.
I wanted to tell you that at age two, you already had it figured out. You had your cup of tea, your cockpit view of all the corporate conglomerate buildings, lit by the rising sun. You heard a dolphin surface for air last night, the water rippling out from his motion to rock the boat gently. You saw the crescent moon rise as deep an orange as I've ever seen. You've laughed at the spray in your face from the dinghy rides in the waves. You've fed the fish by the boat.
So when you feel the pull to be a part of the corporate ladder, when you begin to accept someone else's definition of the American Dream as your own, just pull out this picture and remember that your choices are your own, you don't have to live somebody else's life and, yes, it's ok to be happy.