By Candle Light

With summer winding down, moments are becoming slower.
Late last night, having an adult conversation over coffee with friends of my parents, I realized maybe growing up is going to be okay. I'd love to learn as much as they have about the world, how it works, why it works, how to heal.
One woman, an artist, must be nearly seventy years old. She mentioned that her father had been manic depressive. She remembered how wonderful it was when he would come home from work on top of the world with a new hat, a rare smile on his face, and then, what it felt like when he came home the next day, locked himself in the living room and listened to his records for hours on end and she wasn't allowed in to see him for days.
By sharing her story, she let me look through a little window, into who she really is.
Now she has a husband and children and grandchildren. She's retired from a good job. Since her childhood, things have turned out okay.
It has me thinking, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Drifting Minds

I think too much, about everything. It's my greatest weakness.
Lying awake in bed in the early hours of the morning, I think about certain people more than others.
I don't exactly know yet if it's coincidence, or guilt, or something else altogether but in the darkness and silence of the night, sometimes I get the feeling that maybe, I shouldn't be thinking about them at all.

Home Sweet Home?

Stepping off the airport bus in the dimly lit parking lot and seeing the shining faces of the other's parents, I wondered vaguely if mine had remembered to come. I hadn't slept in twenty-five hours and my eyes slid in and out of focus as I scanned the familiar faces for the ones I needed.
My father came around from the other side of the parked bus. I remember smiling and him saying "Hey Jame" and pulling me into a half-hug. I bit my tongue to not pull away as I remembered that he'd yelled at me about something stupid in last minutes I'd seen him before I'd left.
I left to go get my luggage, feeling older and more independent than I had before I left.
I was one step closer to being my father's adult equal and I've realized that until then, I cannot judge him.