How far could a point ever be from another point? You inquired like a Math professor. You examined space.
How significant is something that lies between two things? You posed as if you were conducting a lecture to an Architecture class.
These were lessons you asked me to wonder at before you left last year.
Only now have I realized, you were my 101 classes, if not my pre-requisites in distance, space, even in maps and cartography. Our lessons date back my younger years. You taught me the joys and pains of waiting – from when you left those early evenings and arrive minutes after midnight, until that moment you bid bye and came back years after. Then there was distance, defined by miles across sea and land. Then came along space, the different timezone, when your night was my day.
All of these were prelude to the men in my life. Stories further drafted in notes which bespeak of terminals, airplanes, bus rides, and even long afternoon walks. They were phrases either drenched in rain or burned under the sun.They underlined anticipation, longing, waiting and homecoming. Hope and uncertainty were in italics and boldface.
They were all love letters written in maps. But yours is the longest, rolled a hundred times, unfolding like a Japanese scroll. Yours is the most profound. Yours has been the fundamentals of history and continuity. Your sentiments on time and space have been my laws, canons and theories.
You are most of the colored pins in my heart’s map, I can hardly calculate their distances anymore. But who needs numbers when you are in every corner as my bridges, defensive forts, protective walls, and my lighthouse.
Yes Pa, I wouldn’t have survived the journey without you and your lectures. And I love you for more than that.
*This is also in celebration of the book (Richard Bach’s There’s No Such Place as Far Away) you left my siblings and I years ago. I thought I was too young for such literature, but nah, it was just plain appropriate.