When I was eight, Daddy told me that one day I’d write a book about him, and be a teacher. I didn’t really pay much attention to his words of wisdom at the time, because he had a bottle of wine in his hand; but I never forgot those words, and over the years they sustained me as I found my way through the road called life.
Today, I want to remember Daddy for being a gentle, sensitive, man who did the best that he could, and always kept his word. Thank you, Daddy, for planting a seed of the written word in me.
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