My dear Michael,

  I don't envy you. Remember that. Not for how you'll see your own son grow, nor for how present you're able to be in his life. Just remember: he is your responsibility on good days and bad. When he is obedient and when he is obstinate. When seemingly random things around your home go missing. When you think you see him levitating just above the floor. When light begins to pour from his hands. They say it skips generations, passed along the paternal line. You're spared, of course. You know that by now. Your son, however, is likely a different matter.

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  Just remember: whatever he becomes, he is yours. Whatever I've become, you are mine.

  Yours