My clients just wanted to talk, not work out.
It was like pulling teeth.
When I got home, I turned on the stereo and fixed myself a vegetable stir-fry.
I thumbed through my mail as I ate.
Junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, more junk.
Then I found it.
A Christmas card.
Only a month late.
There was no return address.
I tore the envelope and pulled out the card.
Just your typical, run-of-the-mill manger scene.
I opened it up.
Dear Son,This card is a little late. I apologize for that. I have been looking for
you the better part of six years now. I'd call your Mother and all she'd
do was hang up. I don't know if you ever got the presents or letters I
sent you as a child. As you know, your Mother and I didn't have the
best relationship (That's putting it mildly). So, she might have thrown
them out. Enough about that. This is not the time for that. This is time
to catch up. I hired a man to get your address, to find out where you
work. I've stopped by your work and have watched you there. You've
grown-up to be a handsome man. I am very proud of you. I love you,
son. I've always loved you and would have been there, if not for the
court order. I was out of the country when you turned eighteen. I flew
back to see you, but, when I arrived, you had already left home. I want
to see you, talk to you and for us to try to be a Father and son. I know
it'll be difficult. This is my home number, 555-8976. I hope to hear
from you. If I do not, know that there hasn't been a day when you weren't
in my thoughts, my heart.I love you son,
Dad
