The morning sun warms my father’s wavy gray hair as we stand in the field among the blue spruces. It’s my first time planting a tree: he shows me how to dig, pushing down on the edge of the shovel with my foot, then teaching me how to mold and flatten the earth around my sapling. There isn’t much conversation, just a quiet companionship, as enduring and solid as the earth beneath our feet.
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My dad carried me up the narrow winding staircase to my bedroom. I had left home weighing all of ninety pounds, but with this plaster of paris body cast, I was a real load.
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“Here’s Something To Feel Good About Today!” “Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.” ~Gloria Naylor The bond between a daughter and her father is a deeply powerful one. At any age, regardless of nationality, color or creed, the role that our Dads play in our lives stays with us for a...
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I could not have guessed that my dad’s death would be the catalyst to begin a sharing circle among women. It is not something he or I, would have imagined.
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My dad passed on in 2000, yet not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I am so thankful I had the chance to let him know while he lived, how much he meant to me and more importantly, how proud I was to have had him as my Dad. My father wasn't perfect, but then again neither was I. At times our differences were unnerving, but our similarities were also uncanny.
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Our dog Sammy came into our lives not merely on a whim while passing a pet store, but rather after years of pitching the idea to my husband with little success. When at last Joe changed his mind I wasted no time unraveling the mystery of why. Instead, I made tracks to find us a dog and fast! Lucky for us, a woman I worked with knew of an eighteen-month-old Yorkshire terrier that needed a good home, and I jumped on the opportunity.
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