It’s your birthday today, and for the third year in a row, we can’t celebrate it in person together. I remember the last time we did, so clear that the moment will live on forever. I’m sad, I don’t show it nearly as much as I feel it, but it’s there. I did well today, only teared up twice at work and a few times pre and post-gym. I speak of you often, and remember you even more. I hope I make you proud sometimes. I know I’m not always my best, but I try to be. I falter, especially over the last year, and I’m sorry for that. You taught me to learn from mistakes, not repeat them, and I think I do a pretty good job of that. I’m going on 27 now, I feel young physically but old at heart, like I have this experience I’ve acquired decades early. I long for one more talk with you, one more cup of tea, one more laugh, one more smile, one more phone call, one more conversation about how the Yankees are being foolish, one more hug, one more minute. I try to keep the others in line, they are their own individuals, however, so I try to guide more than steer. You raised us well, and we know that. Once again, thank you for every moment you spent with me, and every piece of knowledge you bestowed upon me. I’ll write again soon. Goodnight. See you in the morning. I love you. Sweet dreams.