On my morning walk I saw light reflecting off leaves that held that sparkly quality you only see at the start of Spring and it reminded me of watching my Dad walk up the street toward me outside Taylor’s on 8th and Normandie.
And I remember how spry he looked, how he himself had a shininess to him that emanated from his chest and as he sauntered toward me, gleaming, I noticed how sharp his hair looked and asked him if he’d gotten a haircut and he said I don’t get haircuts, babe. Haircuts get me! and as we walked into Taylor’s I remember noticing the light that evening and thinking it was my favorite kind because it cast a crisp spotlight across everything and everyone and as my dad held the door open for me I knew absolutely that when we sat down to dinner I was going to mention how much I loved the light to him and I knew for certain that he would tell me he felt the exact same way.
I honestly do not know how I get along without those conversations any more.
Yours In Wist,
Marge of the Minuscule