Poise and Rationality

He was always the one who gave me the most truthful birthday cards. It was never usually in the norm of "Aw, the little boy all grown up," nor did they have any trace of cheap sentimental speeches within. I never had parents by my side, it was always me and Uncle Sam.
There wasn’t much that really shone out of him, or his cards, that allowed me to understand with knowledge what he really wanted them to mean.
I guess I was too immature to realize what he was saying. Uncle Sam was my guidance, as unaware of it as I was, and he made sure he played his part in my life with just the exact amount of effort needed. He taught me guitar when my friend mocked me for not having any talent. He talked to me about the romantic stages of teenage years. He argued with me; him the wise one, me the boisterous one. He showed me how to overcome anger, and foreshadows. I guess I was too stubborn, at a much later stage in life, to realize he was dying.

When I was thirteen, I was given the chance to step out finally as a teenager. It was also the first time Uncle Sam shoved a quiet envelope into my fingers. He didn’t say anything but continued on to his morning walks. I had skimmed through his card without giving it much thought, and dashed out outside to join my friends for lunch. I returned home that evening with my bed made, and the envelope was placed on my bedside table. Uncle Sam had showed me a fully served dinner table that night, with all my favourite dishes.

"Happy Birthday, Martin,

You’re a teenager now, with a bigger set of eyes to stare at the world as if it’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, and possibly ever will see.
Enjoy your days, and make sure I won’t be giving you a speeding ticket at the end of these valuable years.

Always there,
Uncle Sam."

I didn’t even stop to think on what he had meant by those well thought out words.