The Ghost of my Father
A wonderful story by a talented writer.
Last night I may have seen an Angel.
He appears in front of me, and it is as if he grew taller somehow – all the weight of worry and pain is gone, and he towers over me as though I were a child. But I am not a child – not physically at least, though my heart swells with love and admiration to see him here, the demigod that he had always been, returned like some second coming.
We walk along narrowing paths, and he is agile as a mountain goat, and whether the fall is a few feet of a mile seems irrelevant – I will not fall, because he does not fall. The end of the path is so narrow that I cling to the wall with my palms, as my heels jut out into space, and we round the corner to see a staircase that meets…
View original post 248 more words