New Year’s Eve 2010

Oops. I know I promised the second half of the flight to Denver story today. But I realized that today is, in fact, New Years Eve. And as custom on HamannEggs, I write a little note to each of my sons, capping a year of adventures. If you’re used to HamannEggs being funny, this isn’t your entry. If you’re used to HamannEggs being not funny, you won’t be disappointed.

Okay, here goes.

Dear Elijah,

Last night, I turned on the TV to occupy you because I was still horribly sick. I laid on our daybed and silently shivered, even though I was covered with two blankets. As I clenched my eyes to block out the light, I felt something. You had gone into your room and grabbed your little blanket and put it over my shoulders to keep me warm.

Why did you do this? How can your brain work like that? How can you, a three year old, be so incredibly kind?

When we took you out of school to move to Denver, your teachers were in tears because they couldn’t bear to see you go. “He’s so special,” they all said.

You are special. You are sweet and funny and beautiful. You make me so unbelievably happy, I find it hard to articulate in words.

I love you son. I will always love you.


Dear Luca,

Joy radiates around you. I have yet to see a person meet you who doesn’t explode into laughter at the sight of your glorious joy. You are joy incarnate.

I wish I could be more like you. I wish I had your disposition. I wish I had your curiosity and your sense of adventure. I wish I had your joy.

You won’t remember our lives before we moved to Denver. But I did it for you. I did it so you might be a few degrees happier. That’s how much I love you. I’d move across the country for you to be a few degrees happier. I’d move to another planet for you to be a few degrees happier.

Because every day you make me a few degrees happier than the last.

I love you son. I will always love you.


And now for a bonus letter.

Dear Diana,

I’ve never written you a New Year’s Eve letter on the blog. We usually exchange letters off line. But this year, things have been going so fast, our lives are changing so rapidly that I haven’t had the chance to tell you all the things I should tell you every day.

I think you are the most wonderful woman in the world. You are the one and only reason our family is together and happy and healthy and filled with laughter and love. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it out of the Evanston City Limits.

You are kind. You are lovely. You are funny. You are smart and cool. You are the best wife and mother three goofball boys could ever ask for. We secretly talk about how much we love you when we’re together. I hope you feel at least half as much for me as I do for you.

I love you, Diana. I will always love you.

Love,

Your Dad (Husband).