Patience is not something directly taught, but directly viewed. You spoke of the word patience, and told me at times to be patient, but never said “let me show you.” Maybe that was your plan the whole time, hoping that I would catch onto the thing you had mastered, and I did. Now it is something we can see in each other as we grow into the individuals we are becoming.
It all started with Siddhartha and the way that book made me question so many things in my life. Questions that are still unanswered but the answers I got were influential. Your ability to tell a story is profound and really draws in a reader. You books brought me back to when I was a kid staying up late to finish the book I was reading, suspense refusing my tired body to fall asleep. Thank you for rejuvenating the magic of literature.
You never spoke much, but that makes sense since both of your parents had passed away before you were 6. Thinking about it now you never really had to, you spoke through your actions. Maybe that’s why we always went to the movies, you let the actors do the talking. It now seems that you are trying to make up for the lack of conversation, I’ll do my part. It takes two for a conversation.
Late at night, almost every night of the week, I would find myself in your room, in your basement. Clouds of smoke circled the ceiling dissipating to who knows where. Iron and Wine sprang out of the vinyl player enticing our young minds. What started out as an unfamiliar tune quickly turned into a piece of me. Led Zeppelin and Neil Young soon joined us, followed by CSN and Bob.