Miles

Miles to see a happy exited 12 year old boy on his birthday and miles to spend a hotel night swimming and resting. Miles to attend a parent-teacher conference and experience a Veterans day concert featuring my 8th grader on flute and piccolo, a few more miles and my oldest girl is asking for a proof-read of her college entrance essay, smart and beautiful.

Miles are the unknown, the indefinite abyss of distance and related time. Staring down miles in the face is hard, always easier to do than to think about. When they are conquered and behind us they turn into sweet victories, every one, and then quickly forgotten for the life lying at the end of them.

So, miles, fuck you and thank you, you are my bitch and my blessing, our cause and our curse. And not one of you are wasted.