Some years ago now, I was challenged to write a 10 year plan, if for nothing else but to devise direction, but it left me disappointed in its lack of dreams, each milestone marked by dollars saved, and children made, albeit that felt like lofty goals, aspiring for prosperous normalcy and stability.

Here I am, 8 years later, homeowner, married, fathered, naturalized, in a new city with a great circle of friends, career a little askew, fitness a little off track, and though some token goals on that 10 year plan have gone unanswered by year 8, what I have experienced and achieved far exceeds my expectations and imaginations;

I thought I’d set lofty goals, but had I known how I’d smash right through them, only to discover a reality much richer, one of our own making, one shared, as I had prayed it would be that night long ago when I stared alone at the beauty of the moon.

When tasting Bourbon you are aware of the fast expertise crammed into its hot, caramel flavor, reveling in its excitement, like a fiery prodigy.

When tasting Scotch you are walking through fields of barley, fingers brushing through centuries of craft, whispering celebrations (and sad affairs) in romantic wisps.

S oft understanding murmurs my eternal reverence. U nique moments memorialize existence, rendering shadows M ere mists; even rain shines unbeaten. M ay every reality seek us, moreover E ach rare star utter miraculous messages, R eciting stanzas unwritten; making mysteries emerge.

Summer Unearths Meaning, Marking Everything Renewed.

I wake a hundred times a night to hear, to see, to feel you breathe; on tenterhooks for any sign of struggling, or spit-up, or a gurgling wheeze. And when you finally dissolve (with heavy eyes, and wrapped in place), I roll to my side to see your mum’s eyes but what I see instead is your face.

In my half-awake state, sometimes I’d see Summer when looking at Ashley sleeping.

No matter what, you made it through, and I’m so proud of you.

Our love began in saddened eyes, coincidentally shared by two; no matter what, you made it through.

Your dream return to Texas skies; you freed your heart to go pursue, and I’m so proud of you.

You took my dream and recognized how many shots to make it true. No matter what, you made it through.

There are not many who trusts and tries this many times to say “I do”, and I’m so proud of you.

Till forty weeks you exercised, then pushed the miracle that you grew. No matter what, you made it through, and I’m so proud (so in love) with you.