When did you first love me, Dad?
You loved Mom
You laughed and played with her
You made love with her
— If we reduce that to you had sex — we miss the miracle —
You lived life together and in the course of time
a child was conceived
a birth occurred
You held me in your hands
You smiled at me
You rocked me and carried me
When did you first love me?
You taught me to walk
and you taught me to talk
You cradled me
and wrestled with me
I learned to love reading
from you
I learned to climb trees
from you
We mowed the yard
and built tree houses together
I drove your car
and dented it.
I became a man
by watching you
Understood compassion
and doing right
Watching you
Watching you and mom
I learned of LOVE
When did you first love me?
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Dale
Stories have been a part of my life forever. I have heard them, read them, and told them as long as I can remember. I’ve written hundreds of stories. Bits and pieces of stories. This is my first novel. It is the result of a story that refused to die. It kept unreeling in my mind. After a year of this haunting, I had no choice but to write it. What started as a simple damsel in distress story changed once I met the damsel. As I wrote this set of stories the world I imagined grew. After rewrites, revisions, and letting it bake. I’ve discovered more. More of the politics of the region. More relationships between people. Now as I begin a sequel to this first book, I’m finding more complexity than I ever imagined and more loose strings that need to be explored.
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