My Father’s Lap

My father died when I was 28 years old.

Yesterday, in a low moment, I drew myself away to the single-most comforting moment in my life. We all have those don’t we? That single memory that brings us so much comfort that we retreat to it in times of distress.

I was never, ever a morning person. I would lay awake at night dreaming of things to come. As a child and teenager, there is so much yet to do. So many things yet unknown. At that point we are literally at the beginning of a clean slate.

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