Thank God that Father’s Day is always a Sunday. Sundays are a little different because of my “exile” and all, but they are getting better and better. And it seems there will be no end to it. That, when I really think about it, brings tears of joy. So, it is to me a happy-ish one this year. I am thanking the Father that Father’s Day is Father’s day; it’s his and ours and today it is mine. AND, he has made all days (already, he has made them all), so happy every day too.
There’s my own father up there in the title. The little chipmunk (or chimp—you decide) is me. And then that’s Mom and Sis. I won’t write about Dad here, as I’d much rather talk of him in person sometime. I’d like that a lot.
I was a great father during the years when I was needed to be. Now, like Sundays, it is different, fatherhood is, but my two daughters and I are okay, even with what is called life these days. They are both fierce devotees of the divine and that is what matters most. And, we can talk about it all, they and I, so it’s fine.
[That Neil Diamond song below just started playing in this coffee shop, but I will save it for the end. And I am thinking as I write, that I will add another song after it, just for good measure, but I know not what it will be yet.]
Well, enough about fathers and Father (all is within Father, of course). I am claiming the rest of the day since I was a fine father, and it’s getting late anyway, so I am not claiming much, right? There’s my disclaimer.
Me? I am on the move. It is a time of transition, but oh so odd this transition. Absolutely unknown, and yet it is familiar all the same in a way that is inexplicable. I could try to explick it sometime, and I would like that too . . .
Until then, I will just keep moving, staying very much alive. Happy, blue, melancholy day to you, dear reader.
Here’s Neil Diamond:
And I know just what music belongs next.
It may be melancholy, but it is still a serenade . . .