I know tomorrow will be special, it always is, every year. You gift me now, hobbit-style. Saturday was incredible, and I’ll do it. Meanwhile, here I am, riding the wave. It comes so rarely now.I love you my son. Happy birthday. Shine on bluebird, be free 😘😘😘
I am from the sweaty track jerseys
and smelly track shoes.
Tired muscles and over worked bodies,
Hard breathing that only comes from hard work.
I am from the sweet smelling mountain peaks of Colorado,
the dusty windswept deserts in Arizona
to the salty shores of Alaska.
I am from the neatly cut grass in
my backyard to the hammock
hanging between two trees.
The lonely rake that stands alone
against the wall, forgotten by
those who used it last.
I am from the cold lakes
that gradually warm in the summer,
to the boats that gently rock in the gentle breeze
blowing from the south.
To the fish that play in the shadows of the trees,
and the crawfish
that make their homes under the rocks.
I am from the fruit trees
spilling over with ripe fruit calling out to
be picked by young hands
to the boys sitting, laughing on the fence posts,
watching the cotton candy clouds
float by in that endless blue sky.
I am from the wheat fields that
gently sway in the summer wind
the sweat that comes in
from cutting wood all day under a blazing sun.
I am from the “Go on, do something outside”
type of family that raised me so well.
I am from the deer spaghetti, overflowing
With rich red sauce,
to the traditional wild turkey
that we eat on thanksgiving.
The wild salmon that we catch off of the river
and smoke up at the lodge
for the guests to enjoy for their dinner.
This is who I am.
September 27, 1989 – January, 24, 2006 😢