Novelista

Daddy and Me I lost my father last week to a cascade of medical complications over the past four months.  I feel as though I’ve just gotten off a too fast, yet too long roller coaster—wobbly, shaken on the inside, and numb. My daddy had this way about him.  Gentle, good, and kind.  He relished the little things like ricotta nestled in his plate of rigatoni, a dog wanting petting from him, or sitting on the porch during the rain. We would talk about stuff, big plans, little plans, it didn’t matter.  He made it all feel important and gave his advice.  We’d cook together, clean together, do projects together.  My husband and I would take him to local festivals and shops and wherever.  We enjoyed his enjoyment—his celebration of life. He instilled that same celebration of the important things in me.  I know that when I take the time to savor a type of candy we both favored that a part of him will survive and be with me.  Right now, I miss the corporal—the smiles, the si