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Showing posts from February, 2014

Dad's blog post.

My dad wrote a blog post 36 hours after the apartment fire last year. I go back and read it often. Especially on days in which I'm tempted to take the pen back and write my own story. Here's what he wrote: Minda is our middle child.  She’s 28 years old, but still,…our middle child. The fact that she is a middle child is probably worth a blog post in itself; or so she would suggest. But I’ll save that for another time. If Minda was writing her own life story, it’s safe to say that she would probably be married and a mother of at LEAST 3 kids by now, if not more.  And there would not be a woman more suited for that role; happily in her own house while her husband was off at work providing for their growing family.  I have no doubt that if you popped in on her at home on any given day, you would be greeted with her radiant smile with a baby on her hip in one arm and probably a phone in her other hand offering some encouraging advice to one of her many, many friends.