the foco dad

London and I sat in the sun on a warm February day. We took chalk and colored our respective patches of concrete and bricks. There was no breeze, a few clouds, and a welcoming burst of warm Colorado air in the waning winter.

I colored stripes. London seemed more interested in collecting all the chalk and moving it from one location to another and then she would peel off to grab another rock to drop down the drain cover.

There wasn’t anything particularly extraordinary about our activity that morning, at least, that is what I thought at the time. But later that day I found out Kate was pregnant. A blessing, indeed, but I almost immediately recalled the simple morning I had with London, the hundreds of simple mornings. The two of us drawing with chalk, taking a break with her, and sitting on the brick wall at the end of the alley. Just the two of us. The  two of us.

I at once felt overjoyed at the thought of my family growing and mourned the days of London and I coming to an end. She is my life’s greatest work. My family is my greatest joy. If I don’t write about them, then why write about anything else? More to come…