Consider this

My strength and my weakness race against themselves. Strength is winning but weakness draws its need, wants the voice, wants the attention. Weak is powerful, but strength is enduring. Weak has the voice; strength the wisdom. It's hard but not impossible, easy but not simple. Repeating in my head are the words, Slow and steady wins the race. I want to speak to my father. His number is still programmed in my cell phone, Dad Cell. Does that mean he's still here in some way? No. It means he was here. I cannot delete the number. I've asked friends to delete it - no one does. Probably that's best.

There are other issues going on, other brewings fighting for attention. I roll my eyes. Life is too short to listen to the wind.

She's upset with me. She cannot remember the details, says I chose against her will. Why would you do that? She's forgotten the reasons. I made the right choice but to tell her why, to go over it again, might be necessary to clear my name but it would hurt her. So I take the knife. She doesn't know it's his birthday, and she doesn't know how hurtful her words. I promised him, so I let it slide. Off my skin, but not my heart. It lands, I cannot deny.

It's times like this, when everything is clouded and muddy, when conjecture muscles into the mind as fact and conclusions and opinions are drawn, times like this that I doubt myself and I doubt my heart. I want to go to him. Father, I need some advice... what would you do? What would you say?

I pause and listen. Silence.

Figure it out, I tell myself.

Blow it off. That's what he would say. Don't let your wings get weighed down.