back at the other side of the country
February 23, 2009
Wow. Portland. Transition is always . . . well, it’s just a place outside of the routine. You’re neither here nor there. And I think that’s right, even if it’s uncomfortable. We buried my dad. It shouldn’t be easy to come back here and just pick up where I left off.
My dad. He was this really interesting guy, who was a great friend, a hard worker, a bad ass carpenter, a talented musician, and inquisitive and curious intellectual, but not a good dad. Nope. And as as always, it’s my job to figure out what it means to be his child.
Glad you’re home safely, Liz.