Bill MacKenty
Home Computing Teaching Bushcraft Games Writing About
To keep taking…
To keep taking; to keep chipping away. The willing abscondences of me to my child...
This is a thing I do. I sacrifice. Not everything, but damn near. I give her me. Advice, anger, love, guidance, laughter, logistics. I give this. I do this for the Continuation. I do this from love, of love. A bird looking for her own sky - a song finding a new cadence. A girl becoming a woman, a child becoming an adult, a lifting up and out.
Of course, I don't know know how...I don't know how. This is a thing about holding on and loving without any sense of where we stop and she begins. An intertwining.
And these things move. There is a inevitable stretch towards the next. And it's that, that, which I grieve. not because I don't want it. But because I cant imagine the next part without her around.
Perhaps. Perhaps THAT is love