Not my prettiest sketches, but some of the sweetest memories.
I love being piggybacked. Even when I wasn’t tired I would tell him I was, and jump up for the ride from the store to where his car was parked. It was fortunate he loved that bit about me.
People know me as being happy-go-lucky and I remember an incident that happened 15 years ago, when I finally flew into a rage at the nth person who did it. But as the years passed being that way no longer seems like a bad idea.
So, many understand that I had an awesome sabbatical but few came to know about the horrible encounters along the way. There was this French-Canadian who gave me hell. And he was there, the usual calm that he was, erupting in fireworks of anger and love that was his natural protective instinct.
That moment, I felt that aside from my dad and my brother, there was actually someone else I could be weak around.