for Fathers’ Day, early

I am my father’s daughter; I drink my coffee slow and reheat it in the microwave until it steams and then cools again before I finish the cup. I move slowly sometimes… a lot of the time… but this helps me notice things…

…how the leaves glow green as the sun shines through them, almost neon, how my little sister’s upper lip twitches before she makes a look of disgust, how the energy in a room can shift.

Sometimes I am hard on myself about how I am. I wish I didn’t notice, that I possessed a certain ambivalence as I moved through the world. But then I remember how my dad got his patient apple juice, or always noticed when I was sad, or could always predict which friends would stick around.

I think about how much I love my dad and consider perhaps, I am not that bad after all.