seasons changing

I’m beginning to think of you

more often than not

Maybe it is the change of seasons, the colder weather

Or the changing seasons of my life

It is strange to think that

My father’s youngest baby, is an adult

Already so grown up

Carrying the weight of premature maturity

Yet still growing into her ‘big girl shoes’

When I ask my mother about you

She tells me stories I never heard before

I expect to hear the same ones

for the billionth time

Because I never tire of hearing them

Even if I know the beginning, middle, and end

But now that I am this age

I believe she thinks I am ready for these stories

I’ve now learned about your flaws

I have lived enough life to love you despite

I thought I knew all I ever could know about you, dad

I was always looking at your life through the rose colored glasses 

And I believed it was all I had

That too much time had passed to ever discover more

People die and with them go the stories about you

And each time it’s another chunk of you, gone from this world forever

This is why I will always speak about you

Why I will always ask about you

Why I will always want to hear about you

Why I will always write about you

To keep you in the world a little longer

t.b.