Lost Letters: 3

Dear Compass,

Life is based on assumptions. This is my one-year birthday present for you, this piece of wisdom. Since I can only assume that your birthday is round this time, this minor ephiphany of mine seemed a proper birthday prezzie.

So here it is: life is almost entirely based on real -- often contradictory -- assumptions. I buy a house and furnish it to my tastes, assuming I'll be around to live in it. I buy life insurance assuming I won't. I invite my neighbors to my home, assuming they are my friends. I buy anti-theft security alarms assuming they aren't. I eat, I breathe, I sleep, I dream, assuming I'll live long enough to do all those things again. But one day I'll do all those things for the last time. I wonder if I'll know it's the last time?

I write letters to my daughter assuming she'll one day care.

So many assumptions, so few certainties in life. But I can offer you one certainty: you'll meet me someday and you'll know who I am. I know it's risking fate to say that this is certain, but I also know that some things are inevitable, inexorable.

So, daughter mine, until then,
yer ever-lovin
Pa