Tonight, as I was trying to decipher the image in the foam on top of my latte, I thought of my dad who left five years ago tomorrow. He would’ve been able to translate the message, to find the hidden face, the galloping horse or laughing dog (seriously, is that a laughing, fat dog?) He would’ve been able to tell.
When I was a young woman, I had a rickety VW bug that was notorious for breaking down all over the place. I would always call dad (ten hours away) when a belt broke or a bushing busted or something worse. Imagine me breaking down into a payphone over being stranded and poor and sometimes even lost. And with his trademark calm, dad would remind me: “Never cry over things, only people.” And so each day, and especially when I am so far away from the rest of my loved ones, I miss him; I mourn him. I know what this world has lost.
shewhodaresnothing 