My Month in Virginia

Dear Chewey -

Where to begin with this letter? My month in Virginia is nearing its conclusion, and while so much has happened during my time here, I find it difficult to summarize it all.

One thing I am certain about: I am so incredibly thankful for my friends. East Coast and West Coast—I have the greatest friends in the world, and I’d fight anyone who tried to tell me otherwise.

Another certainty: this month validated my decision to leave Los Alamos. Truth be told, the last three months have all been a validation, but this month in particular really separated my past from my present and future. I can’t tell you how liberating it feels to no longer be looking behind me or waiting for an inevitable fall, elbows constantly locked.

I recently read a book that had some advice in it that seemed written specifically for me: “We’ve tried to become experts at not getting hurt, but we need to be experts at learning to heal.”

I’m no expert, and I doubt I’ll ever become one, but with each step forward in this new life, I’m finding it easier to identify the things, people, and situations that aren’t helping to improve my health—and those that are.

There’s a term used in poker called a “river rat.” This is what you call someone who, despite not making a playable hand after the flop, continues to call other players’ bets until the final card—the river—is turned over. The percentages vary depending on what hand the river rat is trying to catch by holding out, but for the most part, the odds of hitting the needed card by the river hover around 30%. The “rat” part is usually reserved for the player who catches that lucky card—and make no mistake, at 30%, that’s luck, not skill. Eventually, every river rat runs out of money.

I’ve generally lived life up to now like the river rat. I’ve held on to unhealthy things, people, and situations, despite knowing that it’s incredibly unlikely they’ll one day turn positive—instead of folding after the flop of life.

I think it’s this recent awakening to that bad habit that will serve me well in my out-years.

As for my time here, there’s simply too much to capture in a letter. One day, I’ll tell you all about it, but I can say that I’ve met some amazing people—some of whom will be in my life for a long time, and some of whom will land in the flop pile of my life. But all of them have played an important role in my reenergized outlook on the future.

A special note about Kirk…

As I mentioned above, I’ve been blessed with a handful of special friends. I would call each of them my best friend. Kirk is one of those men. His willingness to allow me to stay in his home for the past month is a favor I will never forget. He brought me into his home and his life—no questions or requirements asked.

I love you, buddy. I’ll be seeing you very soon, and I can’t wait for your greeting.

Love,

Dad

Kirk, Melissa, and family on Easter

My Easter bunny

Me, Kirk, and Aunt Susie

Bell and Avery