I'm really proud of having a beautiful mother. And I tell anyone who will listen, how good my father is.
You know what I mean? That simple and old terminology.
He is good.
He's honorable, honest. A straight shooter. Talented, funny, and smooth.
But the two of them. My mother with her quick wit and infectious cackle.
And my dad. His handshake is so warm and his anecdotes roll off the tongue like a secret.
Like a secret you want to hold close to your chest.
You carry it with you.
And I carry them with me.
They don't always know it,
And what's worse-
I don't always show it.
But I am proud to be theirs.
And at Christmas,
Just,
Thankful
