Boys. The stories that they tell, their games of element wars. Their tokens and treasures and quarter machines. There are some games that they only play with you. And those moments when all of you whisper, "Hush, Mom's here," when i walk into the room. It must be something about being a dad. While there was no one there to teach you, I imagine four sets of feet mimic you one day.
Endless trips to the library, bare feet and Kuk Sool, frisbee, football and soccer. Baseball and all of the other balls you've rescued from the other side of the fence.
The skate park, Thor on a Sunday afternoon, those tickets to Amon, you little people should have gone. Gum, the arcade, giant candy bars, Army of Darkness, it only happens with you.
So easy for you to do.
Your blue collar week and then science and history. Weekends of solar systems, magnetics, illusions and Gita, botany, and still time for me.
One day they will be big strong men. Hairy and free. Your integrity, honor, and discipline will live with them forever. The most faithful gift you've ganted them, memories of Father, truth, and pure friendship.