This week I dream of my Dad for the first time. His birthday would be on May 25th. I found this packet of treasures he gave me for Christmas one year. You know how some say there are no co-incidents? It makes one wonder. . .skewed are the memories of memories. He has been gone for 18 years. He is spread upon a mountain top too high for me to visit in person but my mind goes there, often.
He always printed. Never did I see it any other way, His writing was short and sweet. His cartoons were the best ever, for me.
A hat a flag two fans a hair ornament a medal, this note.
