As this year ends, I’m patting down each day, shining a light on darkened corners. How much do we have left to give? It started with a car accident. It didn’t end with your father’s death. When you press her hands to your lips, hold her tight even when she wants to pull away. You need her today. When you save each scrap of paper he ever touched with a pen, every meaningless thing you now find meaning in. The way he wrote his “R”s in your name. The way you both watched baseball the same way: hopeful even when you’re down late in the game. It’s an instinct to hold still when you feel the eyes of something predatory passing over you. Let’s take our daughter and spend the rest of this year with our hands held tight and her in between us not moving an inch.
released September 9, 2016
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