Warm rough hands, worn work boots, dirt on the pants and a dance in his eyes. Hey everybody, dad’s home.
my kids could draw like this, he said & I said he was lucky they didn’t because I would not wish children like me on my worst enemy & he didn’t have anything more to say to me
They’re like pets who shed clothes instead of hair, she said, & they talk back & want a lot of stuff. But at least they don’t pee on the carpet anymore, she added.
Her umbrella was filled with rain she had collected in her travels & on hot summer days she would open it up for the neighborhood kids & we would splash in the puddles & then it would smell like Nairobi or Tasmania & later on we would sit on the porch & eat ice cream … [Read More]
She asked me if I had kids & when I said I did she said make sure you teach them what’s right. & I said how will I know? & she nodded & said, good point, just don’t teach them any obvious wrong then.
Some days I wonder how my kids will turn out, but most of the time I’m just figuring out how to survive them right now.
For a long time there were only your footprints & laughter in our dreams & even from such small things, we knew we could not wait to love you forever.
If I was a sabre-toothed tiger, he said, I’d bite you up. If you were a sabre-toothed tiger, I said, you’d be dead & that was the first quiet I’d had all day.
You keep making noises like that, she told him, & pretty soon people will stop talking to you & after awhile all the kids were over there trying to learn how to do it, too.
When I was younger, my favorite thing was riding the pony outside the Safeway. My dad always said I should save my money for something better, but I could ride for miles all over the West & always end up back at the Safeway & all it cost was a quarter & I still can’t … [Read More]