Time marching...

It's August already, August in a year of challenges and demands and small miracles. Last weekend Mary and I helped orchestrate Sean, my son's, wedding. I had a wistful moment that Dad wasn't here to see that. And so many other special moments. I imagine him in discourse on the rough economic times or the spell of heat that tangled us up in late July around his birthdate. I hear his voice. And I look at myself in the mirror and realize I carry a bag full of Dad which I must remember to share, to enact, to honor.