I was sitting here at my desk this morning just working away, getting ready for this meeting that I’m afraid is going to complicate my life this afternoon, when I get an email from my dad. Attached is something he’s written, a kind of descriptive non-fiction thing about when things are scariest. I honestly wasn’t even sure that he liked “The Witch’s Friend,” I mean, I thought he did, but he did say that he felt like it ended abruptly.
But he read something I wrote and wrote something in response.
In other words, he was inspired by me. Inspired to tell a story.
This literally makes me shake. I love my dad and I know he’s proud of me. But this is different.
I don’t know.
It’s really weird.
And I’m sure we will some how fuck it up between the two of us.
But for a second, I really felt like my dad was showing me something of himself he otherwise never would have.