Going Home Again

And yes you can. Home is where they keep my mom, dad, and sister. My brother, well, he’s a curious bird, but they just so happen to keep him there too.

I’m going home for a purpose beyond my usual coffee with mom, shopping with sis, eating with dad. My dad is having surgery and I’m going home to advocate for him in the hospital and care for him post-surgery. Oddly enough, I’m feeling both blessed to be able to do this and profoundly weirdy that anyone need advocate or care for a man the size of Montana. By comparing him to Montana I don’t mean to imply he ought diet. No, his personality is HUGE. When he was younger it was hard for him to tame and it often cast a shadow on the rest of us, but that’s the price you pay for inheriting an Ali-type personality .

Each one of his children is also big. Each one of us have large opinions. In my case, about justice, in my sister’s about family, in my brother’s, well, he’s a republican so none of us claim to get him. And each of us are resilient and strong and we learned that from him too. So it’ll be hard to see him feeling yucky and sleepy and drugged, but he’s a rock and I know he’ll be just fine. And I’ll get to rub his bald head and kiss him on the forehead without his grumbling about his lack of hair. That’ll be fun for me.