Saturday, June 20, 2009
Life was rather disquieting for an abandoned child, contending for attention, affection and affirmation that was not to be forthcoming growing up amongst those who were not my very own.
The word here then, is thanks.
That is the only word befitting her gift on this day, when the bottle of oaken gold single malt rested in my hands in stout and reassuring fashion.
Moreso now the fear of death for being bereft of all these who make my life worth the living.
I still have today. Perhaps then, I may have tomorrow. Abundant then shall the gift have been on account of that.
And girls, please be smart like your mother and pick someone at least like your father, or just outdo her, that we may all live in peace.
Yes, son. Go forth, get married, be fruitful and multiply. May your joys be plentiful and your parents' vengeance on you complete when you make us proud grandparents.