How time flies. You will be 82 years old in September. Just the thought of that makes me want to catch my breath. Where was I when you were ten years younger?
Was I too busy with my work, with my family and with myself that I somehow forgot how utterly wonderful it is to sit on your lap and listen to your many stories?
When I was young, you told me that the sky was only 12 feet high until it got angry at people who tried to poke it with big wooden sticks. I still believe it. And I’m also going to tell my son that story until it becomes the truth. Hehehe.
I love you Lo. I wish I didn’t grow up so you wouldn’t grow old. I wish you’d forever be the forgetful yet brilliant mind that I’ve always looked up to. I wish time was a commodity with a price tag. But that’s not possible right?
Knowing that, I will be reserving a plane ticket so I could go home before the year ends. I am looking forward to that big smile on your face whenever I give your toes a nice pedicure.