I had a vivid dream of my father. When they come in dreams my mother and my father seem very real and I reach out to them.
My father died 26 years ago at the age of 89. He was a good man and a beloved father. I often think of him but I have seldom been able to write about him. Once, however, I spent a few days up the Essequibo and in the peace and beauty of that great river my father’s life and what he meant to me came into clear focus and I did write some private thoughts about him.
