Hey Son,

So I found your diary. You should hide it way better. Get a pocket dimension or something. 

Don't worry I didn't read it. Your lovesick poetry or whatever is safe. Seriously, though, a diary? That's what bards are for. You have a bard, a good one. Get her to write down your shit. It'll be way better, trust me. Besides, you're a big damned hero whether you like it or not, and heroes do. Other people write about it.

Ah shit, there I go again. I'm not trying to tell you to be like me, or your mom, or your sister.... and definitely not your brother, shit. No. Not that. There's different kinds of heroes. Me and your mom. We kick in doors and blow shit up, and then we move on the the next door that need kicking and up that needs blowing. That's the easy way. You're doing it the hard way. Staying put, that's tough. You don't get to pick your problems. Problems pick you. I never could do it. 

Look, I hate to leave again when the town's in trouble, but you have to believe me that what we're doing is big and if we don't kick in its door and blow it up, there's gonna be real trouble. You'll be okay, though. This town has all the heroes it needs, already. 

You got this, 

*indescernable scrawl of a signature*