To You,
I am almost 35 and completely uncertain about who I am supposed to be. I feel like I've always been searching for myself, never sure footed in my path. Lately I find that I have been thinking about my biological father, who I never had the chance to meet but heard was an excellent man. When he was 34 my father was a successful salesman, providing well for his wife and two sons. However, he had what's been described as an epiphany, realizing that he didn't want to be salesman. What he really wanted was to be a teacher, specifically a teacher who worked with autistic children. He enrolled in a Master's program and became a special education teacher. Three years later he laid down on the sofa to take a nap, had a stroke, and died. Today, I examine my current state and consider how my dreams don't quite match up with my reality. I think about the honorable decision that my father made and I hope that I can be that brave. The one lesson that I my father left me with is that I would rather falter, fail, or die doing something that I want to, than falter, fail, or die doing something that I don't.
Your Friend,
A
To you,
I am bilingual
a cloud of language
a dense collection of words
certain to burst.
I speak in storms
ungovernable rain
falling in audible patterns
filling or flooding.
Some messages unspoken
observable in the shadows
cast by my folded arms
and the electric angles of my eyes.
What's seem and heard
frequently colliding
thunder and lightening
an imperfect storm.
Your Friend,
A
No comments:
Post a Comment