I expect that, like all humans, you will think there were some things your parents could have done better in their task of raising you. I expect that you will take me for granted, and overlook my needs when they come after your own. But whatever faults you identify in me, whatever inadequacies I have, I hope that you can understand I really tried to do my best.
I hope you felt loved, even though you didn't always have my full attention.
I hope you never felt diminished by my absorption in other things.
I hope that one day you can see value in my work, without feeling like it is a competitor to you.
Maybe one day we can chat about the subjects I research, and I can help to fill you with wonder for the natural world. Maybe you will understand the enthusiasm I have for it, and even feel that you can join me in investigating and exploring it. Maybe one day we can write together, so that you can join in my activity, rather than being shut out by it.
I feel bad that I get grumpy on days when its been too long since I had time to write. I feel bad that sometimes I withdraw from you and retreat into a different world, a world in which I am uncontactable and in which you, and your needs, and your amazing brilliant fascinating activities do not figure.
I hope that I won't always feel bad like this. I hope that it won't ever make you feel bad. I hope I hope I hope I don't look back one day and feel regret that I spent too much time working instead of hanging out with you. Or too much time lazing around with you instead of working to build a future for us! Oh will this guilt ever end?
I dont dare to hope that you will feel proud of my work one day. But I do hope and hope and hope that you will never feel diminished by it. It feeds me, as I hope and anticipate that many natural and abstract things will come to feed you too one day.