Today I thought, instead of how I am like my mother, because females usually do that, of how much I am like my father.

We both like to sit and just look.  He may be looking at a Wisconsin lake, sitting on the seawall at dusk, while I am on a bench by my back door watching the darkness fall gently on the San Pasqual Valley while I wait for the owls to appear, but we are both watching.  Just being,  meditating on God, and our blessings, and the beauty of the evening.

We love the country.  Long bike rides down farm roads.  Drives at dusk through Wisconsin woods looking for deer.

If he could visit me here in California, I know where he would sit.  Right where I am now, thinking, thanking God, loving.

We are both meek.  We are content to let the others in our lives take the lead, going where we are led, with the rare flare-up of protest.  We both are in our element in the classroom, where we have the autonomy and are the respected expert in our fields.

We are both suckers for nostalgia, moved to tears at the good old days and pouring over old photos for hours.

We both married wrong, though he would deny it, and our lives have been harder because of it, but we have both stuck it out for the greater good.  We are keepers of commitments.

And music.  There are no words.  It is not just in our blood, it is our blood.  Some of our tastes overlap and some don't, but without it we would be husks of ourselves.