My father often joked with me. He told me I messed up his grand numerological plan, the mathematical design he had constructed over time. Loving order, all my Father’s children have gone girl boy girl boy, up until me, where it went girl, boy, girl, girl. Yet, even though the chromosomes were slightly mixed up – I am my Father’s Child. I have his spirit, his stubborn nature. I have his laugh, we choke and cough whilst we wheeze out jokes. I have his disposition and quiet anger. I hope one day to have his wisdom and grace. His chin is mine and his smile flashes when I smile. There is so much of me that is in the mix as well, but though I am not a boy, I am so proud to be his child as well.
#358 ~ Father’s Child