June 19, 2012
I love you dad.
But I don’t feel compelled to clutch memories to my neck
or inhale them with my eyes shut tight.
You are in me.
Your blood.
Your teaching.
Your foibles.
Your constant striving.
You were with me as I rode past rolling hills under a blue morning sky.
You were with me when I felt my cheeks warm and my eyes darken at an unexpected schedule change.
I would love to be able to call you,
or sit with you.
To hear your voice
To feel your arms hug me tight.
But I don’t need it.
I lack for nothing.
What you gave me is more than sufficient.
Even your last nurturing gift of folding my children’s clothes before sending us home was poured into an overflowing cup.
fridaynightcaffeine 