father and son
There were artifacts in my childhood that sustained me against a sea of trouble Shakespeare couldn’t have imagined. Music was one of those things that kept my heart buoyant through the storms. Tiny life rafts that opened up passages to secret, inner islands. Now, here I am, a father- listening to a son far away, thanks to gift of cell phones and media- carried on his raft of song. The silent suffering of parents estranged from family is almost bearable, if the song and voice doesn’t make you cry.
I am not worried about my masculinity being threatened- damn it, if this didn’t make me cry. :)
Sharing this is very personable. You can not come much closer to an author, a father- a human being than sharing in the joys that make life bearable. I think we sometimes forget- we all likely have someone that means the world to us.
Some of us humans are alone. Some of us are sustained by that first or second friendship.
Some of us, we only have the art, or the songs- or the fantasy relationship of the celebrities that populate our favorite movies or shows.
Some of us live by our dreams, our narratives.
