Thankful


An unconventional Thanksgiving holiday for me. My husband and I are here in Arizona, spending it with my father in his new home. The one he barely had time to share with his bride Eileen, who succumbed to cancer a few months after they were married. I planned to cook my father an old-fashioned turkey dinner with all of the trimmings. To gather at his table of round with my husband and brother, where together, we would share a prayer of Thanksgiving.

When my husband and I arrived late last night, my father hugged me tight. His home was neat and tidy. A silver tray of grapes and crackers of wheat plus  yellow cheeses sat on top of a swirling black and gray granite counter.

“No cooking for you,” my father stated,” surprising me with a slight smile. “We’ve been invited to Troy and Ellen’s for Thanksgiving dinner.” I was taken aback at this news. Troy and Ellen was part of Eileen’s immediate family. I had been looking forward to spending a quiet holiday with my father, having flown all the way from St. Louis to Arizona. Still, Dad was part of Eileen’s family too, and I was selfish not to share him.

“That will be nice, Dad, I mumbled,” munching on a cracker while pulling a stool up to the kitchen counter.

After tumbling into bed last night, I pondered over the coming Thanksgiving Day.

I realized how lucky my father was to have Eileen’s family embrace him as part of their own. Her grandchildren often stopped to visit after school, where they shared stories of love that brought smiles to his face. Eileen’s daughter occasionally dropped off a casserole covered in silver foil before going to work, or one of her sons-in-law repaired something for him in his home. Sometimes, Eileen’s family members took my dad out for an evening of karaoke, where he sang his troubles away until another day.

In a few hours my Thanksgiving dinner will be shared with Eileen’s family. It is an unexpected blessing that my father has remained part of her extended family. For that I am truly thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to You and Yours,

Kim

*in memory of Eileen 1939-2016

Both families

 

 

 

 

Aged Letters From The Heart


 

Recently discovered in a dark corner of my basement was a nondescript cardboard box. Inside was a stack of papers including my marriage license and birth certificate, old files and paperwork, together with early photographs of the children when they were very young. Deep down, flat and pressed nearly against the right side of the coagulated box of plain paper brown was a long ago forgotten letter saved for many, many years. A treasured gift rediscovered that I’ll pass down to my children who will hopefully pass it down to their own. Part of my legacy was folded into a wrinkled envelope of sixty-three years.

Written in a pen of turquoise ink on five pages of thick, yellowed paper was a letter scrawled from my father to his own. Moving to the windowed stairwell, I held it in my shaking hands where I could read it in better light. Staring at my father’s writing, his cursive, capital D’s curled to the left while the bottom of the letters swirled to the right. ABC’s from his heart as he bared his soul to my paternal grandfather, the man most important to him in all of his world.

Although my grandfather was a warm and loving man, he rarely expressed any emotion to his son, which made reading this letter particularly poignant. Not once was the word, “Love” ever written, yet anyone can read between the lines. I nearly cried the whole way through. My dad was in the United States Air Force and had recently learned his father had taken ill after losing his beloved brother (my father’s uncle). I’m re-writing my father’s letter word for word, exactly as he wrote it at the age of 19. A boy’s hand penning the words of a young man…..

Nov 19/53

Dear Dad,

I’m not much for soft words Dad, but I think it’s about time I told you what a great guy you really are. Ever since you took me to that fair or carnival or what ever it was; all I can remember about it is, that there were some great big trucks. I guess they looked about half as big as the world at the time. On the way back you bought me my first candy bar. And when I used to meet you coming down the street from work and you’d let me steer. Oh, yes, and when we went swimming; you’d hold me up so I could kick my feet.

When I grew up a little, we use to play ball or catch together. Remember when we use to go hunting; when that Pheasant went up, he came down soon, I hardly ever saw you miss.

Well Dad, ever since I was old enough to know anything at all, I knew you were a very wonderful Dad and I was a very lucky kid for having you for my Pop. You are the most, to say the least.

Remember all the trouble I used to get into; stealing fruit, fighting, and smoking, when I was just a kid. Maybe it is a good thing I smoked then, and I don’t have to smoke now, and I don’t.

How about that gate night, that all of us guys broke all those windows and got caught and went to court too. Boy, that was the limit. How did you ever put up with it all anyway?

Well, I have grown up a lot, and this Christmas I’ll be twenty one, and I’m supposed to be a man. Right now I think I’ll be a man by Christmas. I’m not afraid of anything or anybody.

Having wonderful parents like you and Mom are, to have raised me, I know I’ve made it. Mom certainly is a wonderful woman and Mother too. You sure picked the right woman when you married her. You two certainly are the best parents a guy could ask for.

Well Dad, how have you been feeling lately? I hear, not too good, huh. Well, you should go see the doctor right away. You know, I only have one Dad like you. I know Uncle Charlie’s death must have hit you pretty hard. He sure was a great guy, wasn’t he? But let’s not let it get the best of us Pops. Those things happen, but when they do, we just have to remember the pleasant things about them. We’re tough enough, we can take it, we have to, that’s all.

Well Dad, I made it home for your birthday when you were sixty one, and I’m trying to make it home for mine and I’ll be twenty one. Gosh I’ll be old enough to vote now, and buy beer too. When I come home, we’ll go down town and I’ll buy you one, ok?

Well Dad, I guess I’ve rattled on long enough. Take good care of yourself Pops and Mom too. Hope to see you in one short month.

Your Son,

Paul

Dad's letter

 *With LOVE to you and yours, I wish you a Happy Father’s Day!

Here and Now


Today is a new day with a fresh beginning to life. Yesterday, after feeling so blue, I grabbed ‘Doodle’ dog to walk him in a nearby park. Even he had sensed my depression, not leaving my side. Once there, a new appreciation for the here and now shook me from the inside to the out.

There was a slight chill in the air as if to rid my unsettled emotions, tossing them away with the wind. As I looked high up into the measureless magic of the sky, mirrored colors of spring surrounded me. A duck waddled near a pond, trees were in full bloom, daffodils sprouted canary yellow, and God’s beauty was endless.

No, I can’t control or change my father’s circumstances. I cannot heal his bride of cancer or wave a wand to grant wishes of miracles. And, yes, there will be tears and sadness, normal emotions under such unexpected human tragedy. Still, I must hold on to my faith in God together with the power of strength. My father needs my support now nearly as much or more so than ever before. I’m praying he and his wife have a bit of precious time together, free of emotional and physical pain. The simple pleasure of a walk in a park while gazing at a sky of blue.

Seconds to sink their feet in God’s pond of here and now…..

 

The Reminder


trees purple

Early this morning, with hooded lids open in the dark before dawn, I lay in my bed to sounds of a bird chirping outside my window blinds. Lyrics of nature welcomed me to a brand new day.

Dropping paperwork to the top of my desk, I strolled outside with a cup of coffee. Sun splashed to warm my face as I sunk deep, deeper still into the middle of an old foam patio chair. Soon, I felt as though I’d be swallowed up, but I did not care. This was the first of the season. Cushions cuddled me like a babe in the womb, making me feel safe and secure all around.

New neighbors seen moving into bird houses a few weeks earlier flit and flew back and forth between feeders, gathering seed. The sky was painted in royal blue with not a cloud floating by. Twinkling chimes hung from trees ready to bloom near others that were already full and flowered in lavender or cream. I closed my eyes to imagine the tranquility within. It had been a rough go of it since Easter.

My dear father who I have so often written about had found new love again after losing my mother to a long battle with cancer five years ago. As with any blending of families, even adults far apart, there were a few minor adjustments it seemed. Yet, my siblings and I were so very happy for our father. To think he had a second chance in life! There was a smile on his face again, a new step in his stride, and although he was hesitant to begin anew, he finally found the courage by eloping on March 11th. A ‘wedding party’ is scheduled in Arizona on April 23rd.

Sixteen days ago, on March 27, Easter Sunday, my dad’s new bride, Eileen was admitted to ER where she was diagnosed with cancer. My father, of course, is in a state of shock. When all test results came back last Friday, the unbelievable. His wife of three weeks has a very aggressive form of cancer that has spread throughout her body. Last night, it was nearly touch and go.

It’s difficult to concentrate on work these days. My heart aches for Eileen’s physical pain together with the emotional pain of my father. How can life be so unfair? The house they had planned to move into sits empty and waiting…for what?  I feel helpless, but each and every day I send my father messages of support together with pictures of inspiration and encouragement.  He knows that I will be in Arizona together with all of my siblings on April 23rd.

I’m thanking God for nature together with the sweet sounds of the birds today. I’ve been slapped in the face with mortality together with the gift of life. Definitely, not the first time. Perhaps it’s another reminder?

Maybe I’ll sit slumped in this patio chair for the rest of the week…

Blessings to All.

 

Tangible Time


Hourglass handQuiet in my office space today except for the sound of clothes tumbling in a dryer a few rooms away. Things to get done before I’m on my way. Off to visit my father in Arizona tomorrow. Yes, leaving on an old familiar jet plane to soar above into a golden setting sun off the tips of shiny silver wings.

So much to do with extra excitement too. Lots of relatives to visit during my brief stay among the tall green saguaros within a painted desert land. My precious father of course, together with my father-in-law and my dearest great-aunt. In addition, I look forward to seeing three of my siblings and other relatives who live nearby. My husband and I will be very busy!

My great-aunt, who I love so very much is not doing well. She hasn’t been for quite some time. Now blind from her own Chronic Condition of Glaucoma, she’s not able to telephone me anymore. How I miss our giggling chats! I’ve written about her before, once on New Year’s Eve http://wp.me/p41md8-Uo , and it wasn’t long ago that I scooped her up for a visit to St. Louis. But, even then, I knew she would probably never be coming back.

I will treasure my Arizona memories perhaps like never before. Besides squeezing a frail hand of my precious great-aunt, the touch of my father and father-in-law will feel differently this time. The warmth of their skin will be soaked like a sponge, their hugs imprinted for only me to see. Time has become tangible as I feel my loved ones aging closer toward Heaven.

 

The Gift of An Unexpected Day

Oh to cluster sands of coral within an hourglass of time

Seconds trickle silently

Speck by speck, grain by grain

Falling through clear 

Dropping one by one

Ever s-l-o-w-l-y not to hear

Reaching bottom

Single seconds drifting into precious minutes

Until the gift of another day may come my way

The Gift of My Father


*Note to Readers: I wrote this post nearly two years ago to the day. Things haven’t changed and if there was any way on earth possible, this is the gift I would choose to share with you.

If I could give all I knew one present for Christmas it would be an itty-bitty piece of my father.  I suppose many daughters think this about their own.  The lucky ones.  Mine is like no other man I’ve ever met or ever known.

My grandmother waited 36 years before delivering her, “only begotten son” on a snowy Christmas dusk.  It was near a cold, dark bay of Michigan during the year of 1932.  Five older sisters awaited his arrival, while an older angelic brother looked down from Heaven above. A younger sister of blonde and a baby brother lost were born during the years shortly afterward.  My father was always the only brother…his parent’s only son.

A humble man who has the kindest soul, my father is always loyal and true.  He’s taught me subtle, wise lessons in life.  As a young girl, I watched his gentle mannerisms while listening to his quiet words, soaking up hushed teachings like a dry sponge dropped in a Michigan millpond.  One of my father’s most repeated  lessons was, “Treat others the way you want to be treated.”  Akin to the Bible, I guess.  It has stayed with me forever and always. Shortly after my own two boys learned their first few words, I passed it down to them together with tender hugs and faint kisses upon damp foreheads.   They are having their own little ones, now.  If the cycle continues it will be a lesson for their children as well.  It is the most important one of all.

Of course there were other teachings to be learned.  Important mental notes written in imaginary pencil from my father for me to follow.  Like, “How to live life with a positive attitude in spite of adversity,” or “To smile when your heart hurts,” and, “It’s okay to cry.”

Once, when one of my sons was very young and very ill,  I called my father in Arizona all the way from St. Louis.  Choking back tears I remember saying, “Dad, I don’t think I’m going to have him very long.”  He paused for a few seconds before finding the right words.  I don’t remember exactly what they were, but together with his quiet tone, my father calmed me down.  I hold that single moment deep down inside of me.  Today, it is here within the whole of my chest…near the inside of my heart where it will stay for all eternity.

My father has taught me lessons my whole life through.  We are both older now.  It seems he is my guide and advisor only if I ask him to be.  We value our time together more than ever before.  Like children on a playground who have been friends all of their lives or even before, we laugh and play.  Sometimes we swing on a rubber tire hanging from an old frayed, cream-colored rope.  Like babes again, feeling our heads dangling in the wind! Other days we walk slowly along a new path, discovering speckled rocks to help us find our way.

Last night, me and my father sat in a puffy, padded booth on a western patio. Surrounding us was the warmth of a golden desert sun setting deep into cocoa sand of a saguaro cactus land.  We talked for hours about nothing, telling stories while sharing jokes.  I sipped red wine from a glass of clear.  He drank more.  Older teeth opened wide revealing burgundy red.  I giggled, he laughed.  A head of thick hair…now grey, tossed back…like always…

“That’s my father,” I whispered aloud,  to no one except golden coyotes hidden in the distance of the desert there.

An Old-Fashioned Christmas Exhibit

Happy Christmas…..

Lost and Found


The last weekend of long was filled with anticipation for me.  I was off to visit my elderly father in Phoenix, Arizona.  I use the term elderly in a loose manner as he doesn’t look elderly to me, nor does he behave as such.  A boy’s brain in an aging body it seems.  I thank God for that.

I met my sisters at the airport and immediately our togetherness could have become a pilot for an unscripted reality show.  Even at the airport, we got lost before finding each other.  From there it went downhill whenever our sub-compact rental car opened it’s doors to us.  Contorted in every-which-way, we felt caged in small can of tin on wheels of four.  Minus an opener.

My youngest sister was the designated driver.  It was only after we made a wrong turn coming out of the airport that I realized she needed glasses for distance.  She couldn’t read a single sign.  “Kim,” she playfully squawked at me, “I’m a great driver when I know where I’m going!”  “Kellie, you don’t know where you’re going because we’re in Phoenix, not Dallas!”  “Yes, but I’m really good when I use your eyes!”  Seriously?  Seriously??!  “That’s fine,” I responded, “but my eyes are not behind the wheel!”

What should have been a 45 minute drive to my father’s house ended up taking two and a half hours.  My GPS helped to re-route us while my younger sister’s did the same from the back of our seats.  Every few seconds or minutes voices were heard guiding us.  “Make a U-turn, proceed to ramp,” or “Merge on to I-10.”  Again and again and again.  Have you ever tried listening to two voices at the same time?  It was very confusing.  Even more so because one of them had a British accent.  No luck in turning it off.  I tried.  Several times.  The British accent was along for the ride!

Finally we called my father.  Five or six times….At least.  I can’t imagine what he was thinking.  It was nearly 11:30 pm.  He had been waiting for our arrival since 9:00.  Like any father, he was worried and scared, wondering what could have happened to his three daughters.

Guiding us into a parking lot of a nearby restaurant, San Tan Flats, his voice crackled in disbelief through the speaker of an I-phone.  “Oh you girls, do you see the stuffed bear to the left?  Turn right.  Drive until you see a For Sale sign at the end of the parking lot.”  We did before somehow ending up at the restaurant’s hulking emerald-green dumpster.  Our bright lights caught a raccoon scampering off in the distance of the desert darkness.

“Dad, what do we do now?” my sister asked, in panic.  I could tell my dad couldn’t believe his ears.  “Back up, back up, turn around and follow the smoke from the campfire.  Go out the nearest drive to the first road.  I’ll stay on the line.”

Bless my father’s heart.  He did stay on the line, hearing a big thud as we drove over a Saguaro that had fallen during a recent storm.  Car lights, bright from our rental car soon shined on the best of him.  Standing in the middle of the dusty desert road he stood wearing baggy jeans and a loose yellow shirt.  On his feet were tennis shoes, glowing in fluorescent white.  His legs were balanced straight, even and wide apart.   His arms of two lifted high towards a clear endless sky with hands swaying back and forth in a frenzy as if to yell, “STOP!  Turn off the engine now, before it’s too late!”

In spite of our trials of lost and found my father together with all of his children had the very best time.  Rare because the five of us were all together with him.  During the weekend we went to the American Legion where he sang Karaoke and danced the night away with his girlfriend.  Yes, she is so kind and they are happy!

My sisters and I woke in early mornings to share coffee under quiet, peaceful canopies of leftover stars.  We walked at dawn to discover horses who neighed, mongrels who barked and flowers that bloomed “Hello” from nothing more than dry cinnamon dust of a desert crust.

Then the inevitable happened.  Such sweet sorrow to say, “Good-by.”  A whisper in my ear from my father. Choking up he said, “Your mother would love to see all of you kids together like this.”  Hugging him tight, I whispered back, “She does, Dad.”

That’s what life is all about.  Love and bonding.  Togetherness.  No matter how far apart, get together again.  Create new memories.  Laughter.  Even the mini-trips of lost and found with my sisters will forever be with me.  I dare say one of my ribs might be broken from laughing so hard.  No matter.  All was worth it.

From every second in the desert dark to each minute of my father’s mark…..All above is in my heart forever.

Dads With Little Lambs


In only a couple of weeks, days really, my father will visit from Arizona.  It will be the first chance that he’s had to meet four new great-grand-babies.  Four!  What will he say to faces smiling up at him so new and bright?  How will he feel rocking babes to sleep at night?

There are periods I long for my father’s presence.  Times when I wish he lived closer in order to pop in unexpectedly with my grand-girls.  The oldest at three, might show him her latest trick learned at gymnastics class.  Perhaps she’d stir invisible tea in a pink plastic cup or read books from her imagination?  A younger toddler would reach for him with both arms, begging to be picked up while baby twins would giggle and smile.  But, only for a while…..

My father will be here to celebrate his only great-grandson’s first birthday.  My son and daughter-in-law are having a small, barn-themed children’s party with a petting zoo.  Nothing big… a few baby animals.  Pink piglets with yellow fluffy chicks behind a fence of white.  Although, I do think there may be a woolly lamb that kids can actually touch with anxious little hands.

Recently, I told my father about his great-grandson’s birthday party while we chatted over the phone.  “Petting Zoo?” he stumbled, never having heard the term before.

It’s the little things I miss about having my dad so near.  It took me at least five minutes to explain the definition of a Petting Zoo.  And, just when I thought he understood, jokes came jostling over the line.  My dad has a very dry sense of humor.   Oftentimes, only his grown children can begin to understand it!

Below is an example of the conversation that followed.

“Wait a minute,” Dad said.  “A ‘Petting Zoo?  I don’t get it.  Will the kids be riding the lamb?”

“No, Dad,” None of the kids will be riding the lamb.

“Is there a small saddle, just in case?”

“I don’t think so,” I answered, chuckling. 

Sigh.  “Then, what does the lamb do?

“Nothing, Dad.  It’s for children to pet,” I answered, firmly. 

“Pet?”  What good is that?”

“Kids love animals, Dad.  They like to pet them.”

“They do?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

“Yes, Dad.  I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, Honey.  Sure am looking forward to seeing you!  Hey, don’t worry about the saddle.  They’ve got them all over Phoenix.  I’ll ask around and bring one that will fit that little lamb, just right.”

“Okay, Dad, you do that.  Love you.”

“Love you too, Honey.  See you soon!”

*As my oldest grand-daughter would say, “Silly Great-Grandpa!”

 

 

Reflection


 

IMG_1160

Less than a week ago I was contemplating…..Contemplating my father’s reaction upon seeing his special delivery.  That of his three grown daughters falling from the sky to land on the front of his stoop, surprising him at his home in Arizona.  Two coming from the state of Texas, one from St. Louis, Missouri.

After arriving by plane and renting a car, we parked a few feet away to slither to the front of his house like a local rattle snake, albeit one without any venom.  Giggling like school girls we were nervous to knock on his massive wooden door nearly six inches thick.  “You do it,” my middle sister said.  “No, you,” I responded, jiggling the skinny of her arm in gleeful anticipation.  Finally, our youngest sister pushed both of us out of the way, rolling sapphire eyes in mock disgust.  “Tap, tap, tap,” her knuckles loudly rapped.

Today, I’m reflecting……Reflecting upon every moment spent with my father.  The whole of each second is stuffed inside denim pockets or hidden within silken folds of wrinkled shirtsleeves waiting to be unpacked.  Before I shake them out I must push them deep to the far corners of my mind, lest they forever be lost.  Every joke and laugh, smile and tilt of his head, hug, silly story told, family minute and clink of our glasses to cheer our past.  This I must remember for all my future it must last.

My father was totally surprised when he opened the door, nearly falling to his knees with a look of shock and joy.  My sisters and I sat with Dad on a western sofa while he finished his curly chicken noodle soup to tell him of our plans for the next few days.  It was the first time he did not balk at our staying in a hotel.  Truth be told, I think he was a bit relieved since he was recuperating from Vertigo.  He needed to rest, after all.

Around a table of square that evening, girls with giggles shared wine of liquid red from bubbled glasses clear.  Later, in the shadows of a stark hotel room, whispered voices wafted over down comforters, reminiscing of long ago youth.  Stories of high school days, cheerleading, old boyfriends with shoulder length hair and parties where record players blared.  Mind photos of mini-skirts, bell bottom pants, first cars and learning lines in plays.

The next day my two younger brothers joined us.  It was the first time we were all together in nearly four years.  There were smiles and laughter with a little bit of teasing now and again for old time’s sake.  We nibbled on cubes of cheese like scampering mice while snapping pictures with camera phones.  Later, under twinkling stars in the blackest sky we sang Karaoke songs to the top of our lungs.   Eyes glowed fluorescent green in the luster of a yellow moon, and if one looked close enough, scraggly coyotes scattered every which way.

On our last day together, we all shared a grand lunch followed by visiting relatives while enjoying the desert sun.  We prayed over my aunt’s struggling fruit trees, and shared a delicious pink grapefruit, freshly picked.  My youngest sister, who recently passed her Personal Training certification gave my father a lesson in Yoga, much to all of our delight!  A picture of him in the CHI position is my very favorite, one I shall treasure always.

In reflecting upon my trip to Arizona, I had the greatest time with my sisters, my brothers and of course, my father too.  It seems like weeks were packed into a small duffel of four days.  The CHI picture is my fondest reflection of my father.  His love of life, all people and especially family.   I do not take my time with him for granted.  Not one minute nor a second on the clock.  Every moment that I think of him is a reflection, a mirror on the wall, a ticking watch wrapped around my wrist forever to remind me.

Reflection……

 

 

IMG_1156

 

Living In The Moment


Contemplating my day. How will it go, what will he say? I’ve pulled off surprises in the past. Yet, this one I fear will be too short. It will not last. Stopping to sip a cup of of coffee near the airport lobby, twinkling lights of a runway welcome me. “Take pleasure in the moment, ” they seem to say.

A quick trip is planned to Arizona. Visiting my father. Two, younger sisters will be joining me in Phoenix. We ‘re stepping stones. 1-2-3. with about five years between the each of us. Renting a car, we plan to relax in a hotel while spending a few days of quality ‘sister’ time.

My father was told that he needed to be home this afternoon to “sign for a special delivery.” Indeed, when the three of us drive up Dad’s dusty circle drive, past the prickly cactus, mongrel dogs and the open starry skies, hopefully he’ll think we are a “special delivery!” I can’t wait to see the moon of his face, hear him struggle for words and string my arms around his neck.

My father had a slight accident last month, only a couple of weeks before Christmas. It was silly, he thought. Stooping low to climb into the crackled leather of the driver’s seat of his car, he missed. Bam! Ouch! Hitting the greying hair of his head on the edge of his cream-colored car, he nearly knocked himself out!

“No big deal,” he thought. Until he started driving. Dizziness., blurry vision and a headache began. Suddenly. Somehow, Dad made it to the first ER where tests determined a slight concussion. “A concussion??? I’ve never had one in my life,” Dad exclaimed!! “Are you kidding me????”

No driving for my father. Lots of rest. Trouble is, he’s had additional symptoms ever since. Some slight and subtle. Others not so much. Yesterday, he was back in ER with Vertigo.

His doctor does not think there is a connection between Dad’s concussion and other symptoms. As a writer who has done a lot of medical research in the past, I know just enough to be dangerous. I have my suspicions together with tremendous hope that I am wrong.

Enough of that! Back to “living in the moment.” I’ll soon be laughing with my sisters. Stopping for a bottle of red wine to share within the desert suite of our hotel. Staring at sand of beige with a pool of blue through the clear of our 2nd floor window.
Together, we’ll whisper jokes under fluffy covers while giggling until our bellies ache. Times 3!

Before that, we’ll surprise our father with an anticipated “special delivery.” He’ll be shocked with glee covering an enormous grin of wide! Happy and smiling. Crinkles with wrinkles surrounding watered blue eyes.

Dogs of two will jump and bark nearly knocking us down. Tall, Sahuaro cactus will greet us in the foreground while we relish in our father’s bliss.

Yes, all four of us , family together again will take pleasure in the moment.

kimgosselinblog.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/img_1118.jpg”>2015/01/img_1118.jpg</a