the old saying about march's weather has always held a special meaning in our family. my father's birthday is the first of march... mine is the 31st. i remember how predictably my father would chase me and my brother through the house on his birthday roaring "in like a lion!" - no matter what the weather.
the lion's slowing down, his heart - interestingly enough - beginning to fail. he took a hard blow in his heart chakra when i was young, and while that wound may have healed, i can feel the scar tissue lying thick around the muscle. he is complex, quiet and creative, brilliant and inventive, and my mind is cast in his image.
if my mother encouraged me to write my stories down, it was my father who taught me to tell them. every saturday, when my mother headed off to the hairdresser's, my father cooked us pancakes and told us stories - stories that hold the rapt attention of another generation of little girls.
this time next week i will be on a plane, on what has become an annual birthday trip to see my father and the rest of my family on the west coast.
happy birthday, daddy - you'll always roar in my heart.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.