I grew up believing my father was the one and only superman.
I believed this all the way to my core.
I would have sworn I saw him leaping over buildings in a single bound, lifting heavy equipment like it was a toy, flying through the air if he wanted to. I remember on more than one occasion he actually ripped a New York City phone book in two – with bare hands. He was the strongest man on the planet. There was no one smarter, no one better, no one more handsome or simply more incredible than my dad. . .
and that was that.
Today, I see this son with strong arms, and working hands – cradling this little daughter. And she looks at me as if to say, “My daddy is Superman.” and I know the visionary, that was my father, proudly passes the Superman torch.
And Life goes on as it should
looks of knowing from & big smiles the youngest
days spent with that little one & her mom
healthy new baby in town
messages from those three all around
beautiful day for lunch in the big city
photos to edit
early morning birds singing
he can fix anything