"I've talked a lot about tomorrow, but I don't want you to
think your Grandpa has forgotten about today, which is certainly as momentous an
occasion. Happy Birthday, John!"
Goerge hugged his grandson long and hard, as if to squeeze into himself an
impression of the boy that would remain with him forever.
"I thought you forgot, Grandpa!"
"Never! I just had to clear the air about the future
so we could fully enjoy the present. Speaking of present, I have
something for you. It's right here in my pack."
As he reached inside for the gift, George looked at John, grinning broadly.
"Now John," he said. "I know what a pain
I've been about you learning how to write. I know how old-fashioned and silly it
must have seemed to you, especially at first. But it's clear to me now that
you've taken to it. Better than that, you understand its value.
"You have the same keen spark in your eyes when you write as you
do when you read one of those ancient books made from trees that Ms. Whitman
gave you. It makes me glad to see you excited about some of the old ways.
They are extremely powerful tools and their power is now in your hands."
With that, George pulled out what looked like one of the ancient tree
books and handed it to John.
"John, you stand at a crossroads in time. Tomorrow,
you head out on a long straight road to Mars. Today, however, you begin an adventure
on another road that runs alongside the first, the road to becoming a man.
"What you hold in your hands there is called a journal. Write your
thoughts down on these pages and on them will be captured moments along your life's
journey. Keep this with you as you explore your new world, as you explore your own
thoughts and feelings. I will be there with you too, there in the spaces between
your words."