At My Father’s Ceremony They Said I Could Not Do Anything Right Until I Walked In And Smiled

it. Just a seventy-one-year-old man and his forty-nine-year-old daughter at a kitchen table in November, agreeing that the future could be organized differently than the past.

After breakfast I walked the yard.

Not for any particular reason beyond the habit of assessment. I walked it the way I had walked it as a child, cutting a diagonal from the kitchen continue reading …