I was thinking of you.
Funny thing about the city is how quickly hairline fractures quickly widen into chasms. Well-intentioned phone calls to family go undialed. Plans with friends fall through. Next thing you know, months have roared past without communication, time as oblivious as the train tracks blurring beneath your feet on the daily commute.
Were you thinking of me?
05 March 2006
Reply to my son
Think of you?
Child-of-mine, born of our souls, your father and I. Born of our love, into our lives. Coming without instructions, coming on your own terms, but with your father's cute ears and my bad knees (poor child!). Wrapped-up in all we had to give you, you make your life your own. Time is without meaning, you are a man, always our child. You live in our DNA and the pores of my skin.
No, not thinking of you.
11 March 2006
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