The Story of Us

          Written many years ago, this did not come with a menu and I had to mold you by my own hands. It was not easy because I was innocent too, still searching for that youthful touch. Sometimes you fell to the ground and cracked your skull and I had to use the molding pan and spin that potter wheel. Sometimes you though it was harsh, sometimes you thought I was mean, but look at you now. You don’t have to say a word I can see it in your eyes how graceful you’ve become.

            Long ago we drove the bus together on I-95 and you told me there was better days ahead and that book you held up confidently proclaiming its truth, I am not sure it was prophecy then but you turned out ok when I kissed you on the cheek and breathed in the air of fatherly pride.

            College was not easy but yeah it was reality. All those broken hearts and those late night calls I was your father and accepted the challenge; you where heading for something great and I was glad to be a part of. We may recount our sorrows and lament some wasted times. But dear child, that’s vanity. The story of us is filled with memories that I can tell you we will be fine. I can see a divine hand happily steering us to the finish line.





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