First Glass

Don’t tell him it’s not possible.

He drank his first glass while watching the sun go down over the bayou, enjoying the warm air and the sounds of reggae music.

When she arrived, minutes later, he realized, instantly, that it is possible for something perfect to become even more perfect.

“… be or feel handsome …”

It is fun to imagine…

I have never known what it is to be or feel handsome; as a byproduct, I am fascinated by good looks, in much the same way that many people are fascinated by riches or fame. It is like getting to visit a foreign country or even travel outer space; I know by this age, I’ll almost certainly never get there, but, it is fun to imagine what it would be like.

The Park and Summer Rain

The end of the affair.

The park and the summer rain ended their brief affair after a few hours this afternoon. It was an amicable parting, although the rain complained that the park was just using him to make herself look good, and the park complained about the rain leaving his stuff all over her place.

Painting Credit : © Lenny712 | – Oil painting landscape

One Father’s Perspective On Having A Child

I had a friend who told me that he never wanted to have a child, because then he wouldn’t get to be the child. I understand that choice, but for me the situation was very different: I had been given so much, I wanted a family I could give to, only to find they gave me far more than I could ever give them.

Traveling Thoughts – 2

Love travels; it goes where you go, for as long as you are still going, laying down beside you every night when at last you sleep.

People, on the other hand, have conflicts, commitments, and limitations, but that should never be interpreted to mean that they do not love; love is the one limitless thing there is, and its perceived limits are merely those of our imagination.

Traveling Thoughts – 1

We delineate the phases of our lives by various rites of passage; however, the baby, the child, the adolescent — they are all still in there. We do not so much change our voice as become a choir of voices, and it is only by the cleverness of our arrangements that we miss how often it is really a younger version of us whose voice we are actually hearing.