Follow the Beard
Give me your Worried Shoes
Sometimes I worry, and I don’t even know I’m worrying.
Worry is like that most of the time I guess.
I knew something was wrong with me the past couple days, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.
I knew it had something to do with seeing my Mom again this week…
With Dad missing.
And finding out yesterday that my best friend might be facing cancer…
Again.
7 years old
“Seven” Missing teeth. Who needs meat. I have eyes and ears To feed on life. Let’s go fast. Let’s rocket blast. I can climb the rope To the top of the gym. Tickle me. Wrestle me. You be the monster again, Dad. Just the pretend kind. I don’t like REAL monster Dad. I am seven. [...]
The End of Fear – by Dad
I found some poems my Dad wrote a couple years ago – during his battle with cancer.
Today is the first day I had ever read them.
When my brothers were too young to be wise
When my brothers were too young to be wise
but too old to name things creatively,
they invented a game called:
Let’s take turns jumping off Tom’s roof and
throw the cat after the person who jumped.