There have been a couple of adventures so far this year—a
visit from Dough and a company trip to Miami.
This past week, Blondie and I stayed home, though, as my
rents and aunt Ziva went off to an island that is special to my family. It was
a spontaneous trip to a beach house that suddenly became available. I couldn’t
get the time off from work. But I have felt right all week about where I am and have felt, just
enough, like I’m there where they are
because of things they’ve done. I just got this in the mail tonight from my
dad:
In his beautiful scrawl, he tells about his Tuesday night
and copies quotes from a book on courage. His ink—orange brown mixing with dark
brown—has the warmth of a beach sunset. I feel like each calligraphy letter is
a cut-out where the beach, wet sand, and dark brown bottles of sunscreen are
peeking through, shining into my room.
"And true it may seem like a stretch
But it's thoughts like this that catch
My troubled head when you're away"
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