Mother and Father

My father is the perfect contradiction in terms.

He was a jock. He played football, and softball, and basketball. He was great at all of them. But, he suffered the same tragedy I did, he got hurt and hasn't played much since.

But even before injury, he was an artist.

That’s how my parents met- he was a graphic designer, she a journalist. She crafted the words and he put them together, she the brains and him the bronze.

He drew, and played, and sang. 

He did everything and never stopped to answer any questions. 

I think I got my rushing from him. Wanting to be everything, see everything, go everywhere. That’s all him.

My father, is never happy in one place. His home is in something that can be taken everywhere-

a camera, a canvas, a guitar.

My mother is not that. She is content. Happy.

I am the both-sides of the my father and the nothingness of my content mother.

I guess it works that way sometimes.