My dad isn’t haunting me.  I was contentedly haunted by my first husband for a long time – all of which is to say that I think haunting can happen and that my dad is not.  (happily, everyone has already made up their mind about what that says about me – so no need to have the discussion).

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But in this moment of hot chocolate drinking I saw multitudes of men with coffee cups from my life.

Dave with tea while working on a puzzle

John with cream & sugar with a dash of coffee on the computer

Dad with water, milk, sugar, ice and foldgers flakes at the kitchen table

My brother in Virginia

Jimmy, Steve, Pa at the kitchen counter pouring powered creamer and using the eternal spoon of coffee stiring from the corner of the sink

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I’m in performance mode this weekend, singing with the local volunteer symphony and chorus.  It is genuinely delightful even though I am tired.  Many of my colleagues appear to be retired and it makes me all the more content because it reminds me that my life is richer when the moments and people that I have in addition to my worklife are the stories that I will care about most.  It is a big lesson that I am focused on right now.

The focus of someone moving into their solo is a thing of beauty to watch.

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I like the world right now, even if I am a little worried about it.  I’m feeling tender hearted for my friends right now because you don’t get to be our ages without a bruise or two.  I’m especially in love with hands around a coffee cup that the holder has nearly forgotten about – a ritual safe and sound and alive.

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