Dear President Obama,

As you stand in front of the cheer crowds of the nation who have placed their hopes and dreams in you open hands, remember that it’s you we voted for. Do not forget yourself. Trust your methods of decision-making.

And as your first term counts down, and your hair has turned a sombre grey, do not count each strand as a pillar of your stresses, but as threads in the quilt that tucks the United States safely to bed every night, count them as the ropes that pull up the sun in the morning and has the ribbons that bring all the people in our nation home.

Don’t let your daughters forget who their father is, who don’t have to be the President to be their hero. Make sure you take them on the walks with their new puppy. I will always be a daughter, before I am anything else and my father is the one I turn to when I don’t know which path to take.

I might not be old or wise, but I know how to build a story, and you have only just accepted the call to adventure. Like all good roads, its never easy, but its harder to stop.

When your silvery ropes pull the morning sun to close, because they are too strong, in 2016 you will step away from our house and join the ranks of men who kept the sun aloft in darker corners of the world. We will still stand behind you then.

Best of luck, Callan Stout