love, daddy

Last night when I arrived home and opened my mailbox, I found a letter from my father inside. It surprised me since I had just sent out a card in the afternoon describing my worry of his absence from my life. Some of you regular readers may have noticed his phonetically spelled uber comments have petered out, which I assumed was due to his recent move but would return after he got settled in.

The occasional cards from my daddy have marked birthdays and holidays, but otherwise, I don't get letters from him. It's okay by me; I have always enjoyed his comments here and he sometimes sent emails. Ah, how our modern ways of communicating kept us in touch. I sent him a father's day card some time ago and heard nothing...not a phone call or text message and I knew he was without a computer, so I filed it away into that part of my brain that is devoted to the things I do not understand or know the reasons behind them and went on my merry way.

A couple weeks ago, I decided I wanted to send some real letters and got out a card set and sent some notes. He was included on the short list of people I don't see or speak with often enough. I sent him a photo from my graduation and my best wishes.

It turns out that his letter and my card were written just days apart.

He hasn't had a computer and mentioned he missed reading my silly chewed up bubble gum blog writing. Part of me wonders if part of the reason I haven't been writing here as much is because I knew he wasn't going to be reading. He's read nearly every blog I've written for the last five years or so. I was thinking that perhaps I ought to mail the entries to him; it might be a good reason to finally hook up that printer I got almost two months ago now.

I enjoy the idea of having a pen pal again, and I've been enjoying sending out cards again. It makes me feel like my words have some small value.