For my father

From my father comes my love of words, my love of music, my love of movies and books. The ability (and desire, truth be told,) to be alone with my own thoughts for hours on end. I can trace my sweet tooth back to him, as well as my impatient tendencies, and my desire to have the dishwasher loaded correctly.  His ongoing belief that I am capable of thinking for myself and choosing my own path is perhaps the greatest gift he has ever given me.

(PS-I apologize for any and all grammatical errors.)