let your love flow

Today is my father’s birthday. He’d be 68.

Earlier this month I renewed my drivers license—got it in the mail the other day and there he was, looking back at me. Yesterday while I was out in the front yard tackling the unrelenting weeds, the mailman came up the walk. He took a bud out of his ear and I took one out of mine. “Hello!” I said. “Hello—hey, have I ever told you that these steps are the nicest steps I walk on all day?”

No, you haven’t but thank you. A few years back when the second step rotted out, sweetie and I tried to fix it ourselves. My dad was coming by for some reason around then—he noticed our step. He gave it a look and enlisted his best friend to build us a new set of steps. He found this plastic stuff “it looks amazing—like wood—and will outlast you and me,” he said.

Yes, it will, it did. Damn it.

Today the Bellamy Brothers blasts in my home, reminding me that an old hippie is still with me, running along side of me, fixing my steps, catching my fall. I’m going to keep letting my love fly, like a bird on the wing, let it bind me to all living things. I love you dad. Happy birthday.

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4 thoughts on “let your love flow

  1. Hope your memories and his love for you, always give you the ability to remember the joy he brought and still brings. Celebrate his life and I will be thinking of you, thinking of him.
    Love you,
    Dawn

  2. Thanks friends. I went back and forth, about how to write his age–he is 68, he would have been 68. I feel like he is just beside me, here, but I can’t see him anymore.

  3. I very much like this blog post, and also esp. so the metaphoric value of steps!
    Much love,
    (((hugs)))
    -Troy (Blomquist)

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