Dad

"He defined me first, as parents do. Those early characterizations can become the shimmering self-image we embrace or the limited, stifling perception we rail against for a lifetime. In my case, he sees me as I would like to be seen."

- Kelly Corrigan in The Middle Place

When I first read those words, I instantly thought of my dad. I remembered how dad always had the coolest dreams for me so that I couldn't help but adopt them as my own.

We would be tooling around a cool town like Port Townsend and dad would see a funky chick writing poetry by a bagel shop with 2 dogs at her feet and a bike propped nearby and he'd say, "Hey, Rachae, that's going to be you someday." Or we might see a cabin surrounded by wild flowers and pet goats with a quirky mailbox and dad would tell me, "There's your house, huh Rachae?" My future looked so vibrant and sassy in my dad's visions. Every camping trip, Sunday drive, or Country Magazine, was bursting with my future - and it was glorious. I think I said it best last year: Here