Emails from Nathan

Today as I was going through my email inbox, I opened this email from Nathan.
He has always written beautifully, but this took my breath away.
Brooke, we have some highly deep children. It makes my heart ache with love for him.

Nate Butler

4/14/10

Bourland P.4

Where I am from...

I am from the strings on my guitar

from the bass guitar and drums

I am from the trumpet I used to play in band

its surface smooth and gleaming

I am from the weather beaten tent in the woods

Its thin tarp, the only thing protecting me from nature

The fire pit is blanketed with an orange glow

Crackling as its fiery tendrils climb an invisible ladder

I am from the canoe I paddled in years ago

Its solid metal frame scratched and beaten

I am from Crescent lake

Its emerald green waters entice me

I am from the tide pools at point no point

The sea anemones, crabs and seaweed fascinate me

I am from the hiking pack I once hiked with

Its pouches packed with food and supplies

I am from home plate in sands field

Its bases dirty and worn from years of baseball

I am from the branches on that towering pine tree in my back yard

The top of the tree is up in the clouds

I am from the tree fort in the woods I once played in

I remember it as if I played in it yesterday

I am from the fallen tree that sleeps in the woods

Its insides are hollow and black

I am from the old blanket my grandmother made me when I was born

The memories I treasure are in every stitch of that old blanket