I am struck each time I get together with any of my sibs and we start reminiscing, how much it seems like we are talking about some imaginary family! It just feels so removed from the person I am now. And how delightful the story! In viewing anything from a distance you fail to see the warts and imagine only smooth, seamless surfaces. Of course there was many a skinned knee along the way!
But reading an account of my father - whom I adore in long-range, short-range, any range you pick - of how he picked up my brother and lifted him over a stone threshold because there was poison ivy growing there and my brother was bare-footed, brought such a rush of new love for him through my veins.
There is generalized love and then there is the straight to the heart love of a father who lifts one above the poison ivy of life.
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