big gulp

i just came back from the second week of a gathering we are having after our dinner with the homeless. it started last week, but i was unable to make it due to a visit to the chiropractor and several x-rays of my hand, (the lid from our huge tradeshow crate slammed down on it)we found out later had been deeply bruise. and the gathering was interesting...

so my madre is headed to mexico to support our family who were affected by a flood that swept over their very small town. my dad, on the other hand, will be undergoing the knife tomorrow in surgery. and here i am in california, so far removed from it all. my dad is one of these rare creatures, kind of like a peacock with these exotic, satiny feathers.i love him and in him can see elements of me- things that make me have a renewed sense of knowing and understanding who i am. he's such a dramatic man, but very realistic and sober. he's got a good head on his shoulders, so the other day we're on the phone and he tells me he's scared of surgery. which on the one hand, it's good that he's honest, but on the other hand, it kind of makes me fidget. and i'm the one that has to rally his spirits, convince him that it will be okay, that he'll see me at thanksgiving (which to his ears, is new news) and makes his tone change (as i knew it would) to one that is less piqued, less unsure. now, using words like this and this will happen "after surgery."

see, he's never been in the best health and has been through a lot of crazy ordeals. he's like a cat with nine lives, and sometimes, when something new arises, i wonder if he may be on his 8th one...

and in the end i know no one is immortal, but the time we get together is so brief. always too brief.