This is not a public journal. There is no theme, agenda, or overall purpose. I need a reason to write and it needs to be well informed. I consider myself an expert in only one subject, my own thoughts. I am reflecting my experiences onto the internet because this seems to make them more beautiful to me, especially when they are idealized and inaccurate. This is not a mirror for me to see myself looking back, nor is it a mirror that reflects a detailed image of myself to others. This page is but a jumble of letters, words, and ideas that will be interpreted differently for each person, including myself. There are no mirrors because these thoughts are directionless, inaccurate, and fuzzy; a vague, splotchy reflection of McKinley.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Father, Mother


Every year I’m not sure what else to say. The card may be different but the message is always the same. I love you. Thank you. Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, birthdays, this message needs to be repeated because your love for me is repeated every day. I love you. Thank you.

I haven’t always appreciated you like I should. In fact I still don’t. 

That’s the best part about unconditional love. There is no expected retribution. Maybe I receive your love conditionally at times but I know it is given openly regardless of my behavior. Thank you. I love you. 

I am lucky to have parents that are experts in the field. They have over thirty years of experience, they know the tricks of the trade. Their parenting reflects what they are best at. Loving.


Letting me wake them up and sleep between them after a bad dream.

Patiently teaching me the same lessons even after I ignore their guidance.


They always have been okay with what I do and what I want to be.


They encourage me to dream big.


They find opportunities to do good, to love others that aren’t their own children.


My friends always feel welcome around them.


They can still have fun outside with me well into their fifties.


They have energy for life.


They let me take responsibility for myself.


They hold me accountable.


They support me.

They help me prioritize.


They organize me.

They love kids.


Mom can cook anything. Dad can fix anything.


They know what to say when you need it.


They like it when I come home.


They tell me they love me.


They tell me they are grateful for what I do and that I am their son.


They are my friends, I love talking to them.


They are never too busy.

They search for truth in all things.

They live the truth they find.

Everywhere they go feels like home.




Father, Mother. Thank you. I love you.