I've been thinking about blogging for a couple of weeks now. I think of all the things I won't to say and it sounds impressive in my head but actually putting thoughts into words is a lot harder than I expected.



A few days ago a woman came into my shop. As we were talking she said mentioned that the minute she heard my voice she knew I was my fathers child. Through out the day and often since that day I thought about what she said and how good it made me feel to know that someone thought I was like my father. Even more important than that was the fact that someone remembered him well enough that they could hear his voice in mine. I wish I could remember the sound of his voice.

I imagine he would would caution me in a stern assertive voice when I was a child against things that might cause harm to his only daughter. Given the chance I am certain he would have done a lot of raising his voice when I became a teenager. I was a bit of a know it all and a tad bit on the wild side. I think he would have been there to comfort me with gentle assurance when I buried my first husband who was killed in a car accident at a very young age leaving me and our 1 year old daughter alone. I imagine there are a lot of things my dad would have said not only to me but to my brothers if he had not died all those years ago in Vietnam.