Second Pianos

The day you were born, Virginia Tech lost to California. I remember it. I was sitting in a hard chair next to your Mother. She was trying to find a way to deliver you but her body was not feeling cooperative.

We found a way, though.

When I first picked you up, you screamed at me. I was so afraid of breaking You. I cradled you in my arms and held you closer than I hold my own soul.

I still do.

The first piano you ever found, found you. It was your third birthday. You ambled into the room one Christmas Morning and sat down on the little pink bench. Plunk Plunk and you made music. It was beautiful.

Seven Years is a Lifetime for some. I hope it's only the beginning of yours.

I so hope you like Second Pianos.

Happy Birthday, Frog.

Daddy Loves You.

Winter's Eve

The earth has tilted. It's colder now. Our little blue dot is leaning timidly away from the sun. We are in the deep breath of winter now, though it only began... today.

The passing week's snowfall is but a fading memory, its patchwork remnants blanket the nooks & bends that the day's sunlight could not find a way to breach. I've always found that after a day's fresh snowfall, when the ground is shivered & still, when the night wraps its scarf around my pale flesh, the world sounds a little more at peace. An unusual quiet washes over every little thing. Rogue leaves that had thus far refused to let go of their slumbered hosts don't seem to rattle when a breeze strays by. Small creatures of the wild burrow down into their place of rest and patiently await the coming of the dawn. Everything seems to find a reason to watch, to listen, daring not contribute even the slightest hint of life, as if only to be still... for a moment. It is a pleasant repose.

The moon is full tonight. It hangs plump & ponderous, ever keeping a watchful eye. As a Mother stealing one last glimpse at her resting brood. Daring not to wake the infants below, she lets linger upon our cheeks and foreheads her cherished adulation. She pours out onto our flesh her handfuls of silver.

It is in times such as these and moments such as this that you realize it is a good thing to be alive. Maybe the best of things.

Be still when the world around you rests. Be quiet when the moment has run out of words to say. Be as content as the moonlight that pools in your hands on a patient winter's eve.

There is wisdom to be found in such things.

Love

Your Father has a hitch. More to the point, an affliction. Whenever a camera is around my fingers become uncontrollable. Well... at least one of them does.

This may happen to you one day.

Embrace it...

Useful around Others...

Useful when making cartoon caricatures of yourself...

Useful around others, er, other times... Noticing a pattern here?

I don't know how this one got in here. Ignore this one...

It's beginning to occur to me that this probably isn't the greatest means of influence for you...

Better yet... just know Love. Regardless of what your fingers do. Make sure you only let them do such things... out of Love.

 Flick that idea around for a season.

Fireflies

Chasing rainbows and stealing moonlight are the harbingers of youth. But the world is not always as it appears.

I want to tell you about patchwork clouds and trampolines, the scent of warm summer grass and the right song on the radio. I want to tell you about the glow from a dashboard and the sounds of winter just outside your barely cracked window. I want to tell you of sand & sable and what it was like to believe that anything was still possible.

I want to share with you the feeling of cool lake water on my toes, lapping its way up onto my ankles. I want to give you my eyes so you see what built me, defined me, and sent me off into tomorrow. I want you to take the wheel of the truck that broke down the barriers of forever and propelled me beyond the county line.

I want you to know that what I've done has been done before & what I've yet to do... has as well.

We've got one second to breath, two minutes to bleed & three hours left to believe in. We have sixty days to live, seventy years to give & one hundred thousand little pieces to leave along the way.

I want you to realize that sometimes we're nothing more than fireflies.

Don't blink or you just might miss us.

Unless we're stuck in a jar.

Redemption

 
No being in this world will give you anything you cannot give yourself.

When you have to Fight, Fight Harder. When you have to Love, Love Longer. When you have to Lose, Lose Gracefully. When you have to Quit, Quit Quietly.

When you know you have to Live, Live Bigger.

The big secret is that nothing really matters. It's all a grand facade built by individuals who want those who do not desire, to desire less. And that grand lie, Sells.

If you want Redemption, Redeem Yourself.

Then you can do whatever your heart desires.