Square Peg ● Round Hole







“So you are Addison’s daughter?  He was one of the nicest men.”  This is something I haven’t heard in years and it made me teary.    You see, one of my closest friend’s father worked with my Dad many years ago.   He happened to be in Santa Fe yesterday along his wife and a family friend.   We met for lunch at a colorful restaurant near the plaza where I felt an instant tug.  A connection of some sort.  Like my Dad was hanging around telling me everything was going to be okay.

My last blog was on aging parents and like I have said, we are in the thick of it.  My Dad was always the comforter.  The one who optimistically announced that everything would work out and all was well even when the situation was at a catastrophic level.  As lunch progressed and we shared various stories, I hated for the time with them to end.  As we walked out of the restaurant, Cindy’s Dad shared, “I hate to get sentimental, but your Dad was one of the finest men that I have ever known.”   At that moment, I could almost feel my father’s arms around me as reassurance.

Until I started writing this morning, I didn’t realize how serendipitous this particular moment was and then I had to smile.  Even after twelve years of passing away, he is still the support I need.  The voice of reason without any words.  I needed a little reassurance.  I needed a little sign letting me know that the situation – that looks really messy – will work out in the end.   You see, I was paying attention and got what I so desperately needed.   I am never too old to be in need of reassurance from my Dad.