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August 28, 2015
I want to move the topic elsewhere. I am thinking about my father. I am remembering him dressed in denim with a gunny sack over his shoulder, coming back from the woods. We must have been gathering nuts. I would have had to climb the fence of course. He must have taught me to climb the fence, or maybe I learned by watching him. Only I've no memory of my father climbing the fence. In my imagination he simply steps over the fence. I know this is not possible. It is just that he seemed that large in my imagination.