Whenever I have a bad dream, I just think of a happy time. In fact, I think of a happy time with you. I think about the day you were born. You know, for the longest time you were growing inside of Mama’s belly. And then all of a sudden, poof. You were right there, looking back at me. And then the crazy part was you were already you. I remember the hospital bed. I remember the blanket around your little face. It was 4:00 a.m. and the whole city was silent. No meetings. No e-mails. No pretending. It was just you and me. And there was nothing wrong anywhere in the entire universe. I wish we could’ve stayed there.[to June]