this monday i'd like to dedicate monday loveday's post to my father. when i was growing up every tuesday morning he would go to our local farmer's market and buy us fresh flowers. we lived in inner-city Los Angeles and were neighbors with one of the largest highways on the west coast. anything living and bright was significant.
we would wake up to flowers and to a poem needing editing. my father is one of the better writers i know and instilled in me a love of words and rhythm in language. i look back so lovingly on those mornings. i would sit and eat toast, drink tea, take in the flowers, and edit his writing.
do you have memories with your family that are particularly significant?
great story
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