December 4, 2008
My father died before I was born. On the heels of my mother's swollen news, he leapt from the second floor of his building and survived the fall until a truck hit him. That was the sort of man he was; his man-traits were inheritable. Most days I know when I decide to leap, I will do so from a higher vantage. Yet what if, like my father, I have keys only to a second floor window, and no one living higher will let me in? Is that why he leapt from the second floor: because he had no friends?