Abe,
Some nights are like this. You are wide awake at eleven or twelve, maybe wired for sound, maybe a perpetual motion machine like your Pa. I have worse traits you could have inherited. It's rough on your Mom though, to have two of us under one roof; there's always something going on in this house, usually something cool too, and creative.
I told you all about watercolor pencils tonight. I told you how I love color, but can only borrow it in my photographs. I can't paint at all and wish I could move color in that way. Your Mom though, color belongs to her. Learn that from her. I can teach you how to draw things as they appear, but your Mom can teach you how to draw the world behind and inside things, how to hear quiet voices, how to see the things you dream.
Rest child, tomorrow is another full day,
Pa-
Dear little Abe, you are getting so big & alert: you look like you are advising your dad on what color to use next.