and dad, i remember. halfway a world away i remember that you played games with me, that we walked to the playground down the gravel alleys, behind things, behind houses, behind the weeping willow i would later recreate in fantasies of my own perfect house. i remember that when you write this to me with bit and byte, we have been much closer than my words can string together.
“dear dad doctor dad” – my name for you. i had to get it all in there. it all had to fit, and i put words together then like i do now: cobble, hope they fit, know somehow there are gaps and know you will fill those gaps in.
i wonder why i made my world so wide. replete with willows, email, childhood games, and you, i am a mere thin band of love.