mmdccclxiv

...life is short, and life is long, how a thing may contain

the opposite direction of wherever it’s headed...
                             —Stephanie Young

I was not born yesterday.
And I am a Gemini. As-
trology being random,
it makes a lot of sense
to me. As in or does it?
And so I look at you,
quite often and proud
and love you despite
your foibles. Some of
which were horror.
I grew to love you,
Dad. I always did,
but the expansion
began after I left
you (left home,
that is, all of seven-
teen, to go to a col-
lege that I would pay
on my own; it was al-
ways the deal) and has
never stopped expanding.
You loved me (He did.
It was unmistakably
obvious). You even
knew, in so many ways
who I was, well be-
fore I did (: a squirrel;
a twinkie. For ex-
ample.), but were,
by your own ad-
mission, clue-
less as to what to
do with me because
I would always have
rather stayed in my room
all day reading than go
build fences, tend to the
cattle, watch you play
with your bulldozer
or go fishing (and I
certainly never en-
joyed the times I
had to go hunting).
You taught me how
to read before I got
to first grade (we
had no kindergarten
the year I would have
attended such). I was
therefore an anomaly
to my teachers, just
as I was to you. I can-
not imagine how my
life would have gone
without this gift. So
this is just a short note,
after a hard talk that
ended too shortly (of
which I am heartbro-
ken, a malady which

it appears might

yet be possible),
to remind you (myself)
that I miss you, I love
you and I am very much
of you. And for that,
I could not be more
grateful.