My Dearest Little Artist,
I hope this package finds you, unharmed from the grasping hands of your greedy younger brother--I do not mean to scorn him, but the manner in which your mother has decided to raise that child, that is to say completely devoid of correction and guidance, leaves me little faith in the future of the opposite sex. Alas, I digress.
I imagine you tucked away in your midwestern fields--green and humming with life sprung from dull roots out of the cruel april rain. I imagine this parcel finds you with pencil in hand, sketching wildflowers, or perhaps the…