
There’s a slight breeze in the air, the temperature one degree below perfect, with no hint of humidity. I’m sitting in the Chinese garden, listening to Zen music which isn’t playing, and writing like I haven’t written in a long time. Across from me, my sister, Annie, scratches away as well. Around me stone bridges arch across a placid, green-colored lake. Koi fish and small turtles swim lazily beneath the surface, while a few ducks float about up top. I sit cross-legged on a low ledge, bent over, writing as fast as my pen will go, needing to get my memories of this trip down on paper, needing to see them take shape with letters and words, and basking in the release it brings. I haven’t felt this inspired in quite some time.
“What are you writing?”
I emerge from my thoughts to find a young girl by my side. She looks to be about eight years old. Long blonde hair, streaked with highlights, hangs loose around her shoulders in uncombed locks. She’s wearing a tank top with spaghetti straps and short shorts. Continue reading →
Tags: Chinese garden, Daughters, Fathers, Relationships