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patterns of ink

How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka

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Location: Lake Michigan Shoreline, Midwest, United States

By Grace, I'm a follower of Christ. By day, I'm a recently retired school administrator; by night (and always), I'm a husband and father (and now a grandfather); and by week's end, I sometimes find myself writing or reading in this space. Feel free to join in the dialogue.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

The above post is an abridged version of the story printed for the guests at my mom's funeral. It was suggested by a friend that I submit it in a narrative contest that tells a story in an interesting way in less than 2000 words. The original posts are in the February archives as separate chapters. © Copyright 2008, TK, Patterns of Ink

posted by .Tom Kapanka | 11:53 PM

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