My stories are written for a primary audience of two: Gee + DJ.
Parents – like me – are complicated creatures. You never know what goes on inside a parent’s mind and, as I age, I find myself asking, ‘of what did my mom, or my dad, dream?’ The answer is I don’t know. My parents are gone so they can’t tell me.
Why share something so personal?
I guess I could let the stories fade away; let my life slip into the past. But no. I want my children to know of my dreams and struggles; to know from whence they came.
And why share with you?
That’s easy.
I am in your debt. You’ve helped tip life’s scales deep into positive territory; far outweighing challenges and difficulties I’ve endured along the way.
In times of trouble you shared with me your kind words, care, advice and time. In return my hope is to share a peek deep into me.
For your kindness I return an open kimono. Look if you wish. Know, though, that some of the stories cast a not-so-flattering light. Unfortunately, that’s me. Some, perhaps, will make you smile. Some may make you cry. Some may launch you on a daydream.
I hope in some you hear the faint echo of my thanks; my gratitude.
It is my hope that, many years from now when my children are grown, they will return to visit an elderly father and look for a book in a fight against boredom as an old man naps or maybe they’ll clear out my house and in doing so will come across an unopened book and open it to find inside my final gift; a piece of me.
Thank you, BDK.