Magic Hour

It’s a Thursday morning, sitting at my desk, looking at a work day spent writing. Some four to five hours.  I often work with music on, and as I’m on a great One Ok Rock binge, their song Hard to Love comes on and nostalgia sets in.

You know they hit the lyrics right when they have your mind wandering on a trip.  This song has me thinking of my Dad.  My Dad remains this great mysterious man in my memory.  I can only imagine what he thought of me, as he died when I was too young to comprehend much about life.  I often imagine he’d have given me advice like in this song when I think of him.

A hard-working man, who loved his family and did what he could to create a future for us.  This picture is different depending with who you talk to, but for me, it really never changes.  In my memory, he is firmly a super hero who I know I will always look up to.

Full of nostalgia feels, magic hour takes over as I plan the next part of a story taking shape.  The beauty of fiction is that it can take you places you never expected to be.

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