Writing wrongs: tarantulas aren’t baboon spiders after all

I wish I could write a letter to my dad‚ and then‚ one day‚ when I have waited patiently long enough‚ receive one back.

I don’t really want to write him an e-mail or send a text message or even really give him a call‚ although of course any of those would be better than the nothing I get to do now.

You don’t really get much of a person through an e-mail or a text message or a call. You get the convenience of speed and the illusion of proximity but not much connection‚ that shy‚ generous revealing of yourself that I more closely associate with letters.

I have spent the past 35 or so years wishing I could be in touch with my dad again‚ wishing he could be in touch back‚ so I wouldn’t mind waiting however long it took for my letter to get there and for one to arrive‚ an actual piece of paper that his hand has touched and upon which his shadow has fallen while he has lingered‚ chewing his pen‚ wondering what to write.

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