Dear Joseph and Lucia,

I feel a bit guilty that when I’m home in Richardson, I don’t take the time to write to you.  Truthfully, I’m usually so busy with chores and errands that when I finally relax, the computer is the last thing I want to pick up.

It was a long weekend due to Labor Day.  I didn’t get home until Saturday morning. The traffic Friday night was miserable and I was quite tired from the week.  Besides, Saturday morning traffic is a breeze.  Michèle and I went shopping for house supplies and groceries, and spent a while cleaning up around the house. We picked up some wonderful salmon steaks and I did my best effort to reproduce my mom’s rice pilaf recipe (close, but no cigar). 

Rachael had a few friends over for the weekend. It was wonderful to see the goofiness and comradery between the three of them. They all enjoyed the salmon and rice. We even all did a binge watching session on Netflix.

I made a wonderful breakfast of cinnamon rolls, bacon, and fresh strawberries Monday morning for everyone.  That didn’t last very long.  It was funny. As soon as the house filled with the aroma of the rolls and bacon, EVERYONE got out of bed earlier than usual.  You just can’t beat the smell.

Having a full house and table lets me reflect on you guys.  It helps having children around that are your age.  I’m reminded that I’m a father despite your absence in my daily life. When I’m handing a plate to one of the kids here, I think of you two every time. I look forward to the day when you can hang out at the kitchen table and chat with us while Michèle and I do our well-coordinated kitchen dance around one another while cooking. We’ve become well adapted at each other’s strengths and can pull a meal off easily without leaving a mess.  Or even better, you can lounge by the pool while I grill something outside. 

All said and done, our home is exactly that… home.  And I want to share it with you guys.  I understand if it takes time. So until then… I’ll be here waiting.

Love,
Dad

P.S. Michèle stumbled across a family tree in a box of photos my parents left for me.  There is documentation all the way back to your Great-great-great-great-great Grandparents.  You come from Irish, Polish, and English decent from my mother’s side.  You also have a great deal of Irish from my father’s side.  And the name “Randel” is actually of French origin.  Michèle and I are going to start putting all this together soon.  It will be an heirloom for you two.