From one moment in time to the next. I was having a heart to heart with my friend, a pragmatic individual, who like us all is on this itinerary with fate. We were discussing love. At times I feel I have been scolded or steered in the direction of, “well, you love everybody.” I assume that means, I love to love. I choose not to be defensive in that description of myself, for my life had been a folly of wrong doing and perception. The retaliate in kind, a benign tumor of behavior. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. An in-depth display of selfish, self-centered fear. The less than stigma. My friend is intelligent, charming and opinionated. Also deep and has become introspective. How I love watching and listening to growth. My change was catapulted out of truth. The voice of reason an unexpected source. My Father, a tough, strong, traditional man. He grew up on the reservation in Kansas, his mother who was terminally ill and a Papa who was equally tough. A practicing Alcoholic, a rolling stone, just like the Temptations sing about. My father was forced into Adulthood early, he joined the Marines at a young age and loved what it offered. He spoke of his first night in boot camp, late at night after everyone had gone to sleep, he would go to his locker, in it were seven clean shirts, seven pressed slacks, seven socks, seven undergarments, they were his and the most beautiful thing he ever saw. My heart swells writing this. He belonged and he loved it. My father, the war hero, the Gentleman Marine. A true renaissance man. Although my time with him was cut way too short, he remains with me , he taught me by example, how to love everyone, how love is a thousand to zero and so much more. In the background as I gather my thoughts, the flute is playing and it’s him, the third part of the triangle, my very own holy trinity. The father, son and holy ghost. My rock. His voice resonates acceptance and hope, a youthful purity of love, sweet love. He speaks of his own tête-à-tête with our father. Listening to a tape of one of his talks, knowing it was a divine appointment with his surrogate father, friend, his guide. I breathe in everything he is saying his words a meditation of gratitude. I can only pause and know, the trinity changes. The torch is passed, with words spoken, and acts of love, for fun and for free and that is truly our rite of passage, from womb to awakening.