Father’s Day is this Sunday, and I am left with the memory of all the cards I sent late, or the phone calls made when I forgot a card entirely. I am left with the knowledge that I never knew which holiday would be the last.
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Tag: poem
Categories
An Open Love Letter
Dear Sweet Child O’Mine, At the moment you are barely two years old, and you consist of feet much too big for the rest of your spindly toddler body, wide blue eyes, and unruly curly blonde hair.