I hope my sons understand: when someone compliments an undertaking of theirs, that the compliment more often than not reflects the effort they’ve invested, and not the results.
I hope that they, too, respect the endeavor and not the response.
I hope they always try.
I hope they always hope.
I hope they always dream.
I hope they always listen to that voice in themselves that cries when others cry, that laughs when others laugh, that marvels at the wonders around them… and wonders at the marvels around them.
I hope their memories outlast mine, and I hope that their memory of me reflects more of what they needed me to be than I was able to provide.