I squeeze him with my legs and arms and hear him grunt as I press the air out of his lungs. "I love you, Dad. Now more than ever."
I drop down and bend over, picking up his robe and placing it in his hand. "Till things change," I whisper. I turn and leave, picking my robe off the floor.
July 14, 8:57 AM
The sun is pouring in my window. I don't remember getting back to my room. I'm lying naked on my bed, the sheets off on the floor. I run the memory of last night through my mind. This, this thing, this should not work. There is so much cultural wrongness, yet here I am, guilt-free and planning the final act. I know this will not be forever. I said it: 'till things change', but my relationship with my father is now deeper than I could have ever imagined, and that fills me with joy and sat
