memory of dad
* some mornings anxiety churns its source unclear. mind follows heart, memory unfolds. i gaze eyes closed unpausing prior reels stopping at visuals that match the gurgling intensity. dad is in the car with his wife. they are driving through my town in a rental car after a few thousand mile flight. it’s their vacation. seeing me is not on the itinerary. suddenly i’m in his backseat invisible. i pick up the map and view the world only to realize i’m not in it, that i’m not on anyone’s itinerary. they begin laughing and i return the map to the console, wondering how it feels to be thought of as important and treated as necessary. essential. i open my eyes. they’re wet but the anxiety now recognized has dissipated. it isn’t about dad. it’s about the energy felt. energy unseen yet being repeated. i pray to embrace the sense of insignificance for what it remains to teach me.