seeing: The back of my left hand, which reads, in black ballpoint capital letters, "DAD."
I wrote it this morning. The second "D" has a bit of a pen skip, from a bone that runs through the center of my hand, through to the tallest of my knuckles and the finger that is responsible for d, e, and c as I type. All day long, I've seen this word, and prayed a happiest of birthdays for my dear-to-me father
feeling: cozy in the "study" at home, with the heat blowing down and my mug full of tea; loss at the distance between me and so many of the people I love; this morning, cold down to my creaking bones (it was zero degrees Fahrenheit, I discovered when I got to work)
hearing: the whoosh of air in the register above my head; faint music from the other room
smelling: that tea, mostly, and the scent echoes of a pasta dinner
tasting: solitude, rooibos, chocolate
Friday, November 23, 2012
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seeing: letters on a screen through mist filled eyes.
ReplyDeletefeeling: love from a distant place that's closer than ever in my heart.
hearing: the only other occupant in this once full house as she says good morning to the cat.
smelling: coffee down the hall calling me for another cup.
tasting: the final cool caffeinated sip & a hint of salt from the mist.
love your pen-drawn-on self!
Dad