... it falls lush and tropical on the ponds, washing away weeks worth of pollen and goo, running down the birch leaves in little rivulets. even the birds have taken cover. the sound is soothing, calming as a balm on the last few days.
did i mention that my children are feuding? passions have been roused, lines have been drawn, the dogs of war unleashed. as a gang of four, my children are a formidable force; when they turn upon each other, what used to sound like puppies yapping now's like the baying of the hound of the baskervilles.
i've realized its time to write a Letter to my father.
in the last few months of her life, my dear friend lorraine didn't want me to come and see her. it'll be too upsetting for both of us, she said. and so i wrote her a letter to say good-bye.
at her memorial service, both her daughter and her son-in-law expressed how much that letter had meant to her. i wish i could write like that, her son in law said to me. and i realized that telling someone you care means quite a lot - putting it into words means even more. print media may die, but writing will, in some form or fashion go on forever because the written word has so much weight.
and so while i know i'll call my daddy today - or most likely tonight - when the time change means he will be safely home - i think i'm also going to write him and tell him what a very good Daddy he is.