Rachel Young

friday, august 24, 2001

I`m re-reading The Chosen by Chaim Potok, and an Asian guy at work recognized the author. Said Potok taught at his university and so he read a couple of his works. I was easily impressed, because I`ve never run across someone who`s read his stuff before.

Potok`s novel makes me reflect on what a beautiful relationship father/son could and should be. It`s amazing how much influence a parent can have over a child and vice versa. Well, it got me thinking about my own father and how our relationship has developed over the years. I can recall the first time we ever hugged and the first time he ever told me the words "I love you" when I was in college. I had to fight back tears, because those words meant so much to me coming from him. Now those are three words that flow comfortably and naturally out of my father`s mouth, and hearing him say it so lovingly with his thick accent always puts a smile on my face. Unbelievable to think it was only a few years ago that I resented him with such disdain.

My father called me again today, which makes it the fourth time this week. This causes me some concern, because I used to talk to them maybe once every two weeks (if even) when I lived in DC. I keep asking my dad if everything is okay. If Mom is doing well. How the church is doing? What they`ve been up to? He says all is well, but the tone of his voice makes me wonder what he`s holding back.

Something doesn`t feel right, but perhaps it`s just paranoia or lack of sleep on my part. Yeah, I hope that`s all it is.

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