A Letter to Grandpa: Stardew Valley

At six every morning, I wake to the sunlight. I drink a shot of espresso, hug the cat and the dog one by one, and then rush impatiently toward the mines.
I take the grandfather of the subway — the minecart — straight to my battlefield.

I collapse in those caves again and again, and yet I remain devoted to my profession. God randomly takes a few things I treasure and makes me lose them, but at least He is never cruel enough to take everything. No matter how maniacally I throw myself into a swarm of monsters, the doctor in Stardew Valley always manages to bring me back.

Grandpa, why couldn’t they bring you back too?

I have a partner who quietly supports me. Once he saw how crazy I am about mining, he took over everything else.

When we were young, we started with nothing.
We planted parsnips in spring, melons in summer, pumpkins in fall, and scattered winter seeds across the frozen ground.
We were just a young couple who had returned to the countryside to build a life together — one farmer, one miner.

Later, we made some money and moved farther away to expand our little enterprise. We bought a new house, planted starfruit like mad, and even grew an ancient fruit that technically “doesn’t exist.”
We make wine, though neither of us ever drinks it.

We have a lot of animals now. So many that I can no longer remember all their names.
I still do nothing but mine. My partner, meanwhile, has automated the farm and now spends his days wandering around town, saying hello to everyone. He is always bringing spaghetti to Robin and seems to enjoy talking to her quite a lot.

Our relationship is still good, though.

We dance together at festivals.
We share stories beside the fire.
Sometimes we make wishes under the stars.

At home, I also have a cat, a dog, a turtle, and two children. The house is so large that sometimes I come home and have no idea where any of them are, but I think they’re used to my hours by now.

One of my children just stares into the fish tank. He can do it all day.
I’ve stopped asking.
Either way, since he likes it so much, I put the best jellyfish I catch in there for him.

My pets are very well behaved. On rainy days, they drink rainwater. I’m not sure what they drink on the days when I forget to fill their bowls.
Pond water, probably.

Grandpa, thank you for leaving me this farm.
Because of you, I get to do work I actually love.

Back when I worked nine to five, every day seemed to stretch endlessly into the next. Somehow, spending my life underground smashing rocks makes me feel freer.

My work is philosophical now.
Life is like mining: you never know what you’re going to dig up.

Sometimes I go fishing, but if I’m being honest, hunting slimes is still much more exciting. I like the sticky little noises they make.

Every adventure means pockets full of gemstones.
Every fish means a good meal.
Every crop means income.

I am very lucky.
You gave me the chance to begin again, and I know that many people never get one.

When I am happy, I can work until two in the morning and pass out from exhaustion.
When I’m not, I can simply go to sleep and wake up in spring.

I can live slowly.
Love slowly.
Grow old slowly.

Grandpa, I don’t know whether making wishes to you actually works, but I accidentally ate the ostrich egg I found.
I need another one.
You can just leave it in a chest in the Volcano Dungeon.

Thanks.

* * *

Grandpa,

It’s Spring 1 again. Year 5, I think.
Thank you for the ostrich egg.

About my husband,
we’re not together anymore. I guess the spaghetti was a problem.
Your great-grandkids stayed with me.

I could pay to make him forget. I haven’t decided which one of us should.
prob not worth the money.

Thanks.