My Mother

She was both mother and father. Even when my father was alive, my mother was my father. Everything good that I’ve learned, I’ve learned from her. It was not a perfect relationship, but she was my best friend, and positively affected my life. My father, for his part, gave me these hands and these eyes, and this technical brain. Don’t get me wrong, he was impactful. Sort of like an asteroid hitting earth. Someone wise once said, “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.” Mary Oliver.

Thanks for the darkness, dad.

Thanks for the light, Mom.