The Runtyun

She was born the same month that I was, forty years later though. When the excitement of the birth was over and the baby was clean and wrapped up in her birthing cloths, when I stopped feeling woozy and found a certain control over my emotions. The nurse handed me the cooing little bundle–my daughter.

She was warm in my arms. All I could see were her eyes, they were so big. I know that at only a few minutes of age there is not very much for a baby to reference, yet she looked straight at me and she had me. At the time I did not know the adventures that I would go through as a father. The things I would endure as a parent and man. At the time all I saw were eyes and a bright red pudgy face and a little bubble of saliva at the corner of her mouth.

I put her down on the birthing table and just stared. What had I done? This little creature, perfect with ten toes and ten fingers, one little head that looked too big for that little body. What had I done? I put my hand out to her to see what she would do. Nothing. I guess she could not see–being only few minutes old. My finger brushed her hand, she did not jump, but reached out and gripped my finger. She was strong!

She would have to be strong coming into the life I was involved in. We went through a few struggles before getting to the somewhat stable life we live now. During her toddler years she was very out going. Her smile in the morning was brighter than the sun at sunrise. It carried me through some of my darkest days.

Now she is so wise, yet strangely naive. She can understand things beyond her years, yet in another minute ask a question so innocent that I can only wonder. The Runtyun is growing into a fine person despite my parenting skills.

I have stumbled through this whole parenting experiment and you know what? She is doing pretty well despite me.


Sunday, August 4, 2013

Lament


             I have had delusions of grandeur for the last few years. Truth is I really don’t want to work for someone else, I want to write for a living. I think I have interesting ideas and I have deluded myself into thinking that others may be interested in them.
Seems I am wrong in that assumption.
When I post on any of my blogs; A Daddy Grows Up: A Chronicle of Our Journey, Rants and Brain Echoes, My Rantings (a journal of thoughts), or even just update my status on Facebook, I get a smattering of views and almost no comments. Much less any follows.
I spend a good amount of time writing these posts and most of the them are pertinent to something going on outside of this electronic box. I always want to have feed back from my readers and most of the time ask for it in the post. Yet I get very little. I want feed back on the content and style, yet all I get is encouragement with no editorial rebuttal.
I’ll keep on trudging along writing here and working on my fictional writing too, but it sure would be nice to get some followers and comments, so please read and let me know what you think. I even want to know if you, the reader, will never look at a posting of mine again. Just let me know and maybe an indication on better writing, or more interesting topics, anything that could help me in rise to journalistic sufficiency. 


Thanks, olc 

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