Tag: Dad
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Dear Dad,
I can’t believe it’s been five years and three days since you died. Five years. So much has happened that you’ve missed, much of it things you told me you knew you were going to miss. You were like an oracle in that hospital bed, pointing at the television, telling me my name was going…
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sage.
Sage, the smartest dog in the universe, the one who helped my sister survive high school, nursed my dad through chemo and radiation, and helped my mom with both her empty nest syndrome and finding her footing after Dad died, was put down yesterday after sixteen long, wonderful years of life. Sage understood an incredible…
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you know you’re right.
I have a long history with being right. When I was a kid, I was right all the time. Knew the answers, knew why I knew the answers, knew what the next questions would be. Moving all the time meant I was always being given another series of placement tests, and I knew what those…
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The Marathon, Part One (Miles 0-12)
“You know, your father was proud of you for more than just that race.” “I know, Ma.” “He just didn’t always know how to say it.” I got up at three in the morning. Sprang from the bed, actually, when the alarms went off. (Two different alarms). I got dressed. Wrote sleeping stee a note.…
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Maybe I’m Crazy…
“But why do you want to do this?” my mom asked in that tone, the worried whine of motherhood. “For a lot of reasons,” I answered. “Because I want to, and because I don’t think I can, and… well, probably because Dad and that race when I was in the third grade.” She sighed. She…
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fantastic.
I didn’t get to see the concert last night. It was sold out. I got home relatively early (we even joked about it when we all went our separate ways, how it was pretty early to be so exhausted), and went to sleep. I have tickets for the opera for today. Robert Wilson’s Madame Butterfly.…
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where i’ve been.
I’ve been emailing this morning with Heather and Jessica about how I’ve always wanted to change the letters on the HOLLYWOOD sign to read HURRYUPANDWAIT.
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Changing of the Guard
About a year ago, if you’d asked me if I’m a guarded person, I’d have told you absolutely not. I write books and scripts that usually come out of some story from my life. I write quite publicly about my life online, for Pete’s sake. Clearly I don’t have a problem talking about myself. But…