It seemed like another lifetime ago, but for many summers my daughter and I, after divorce, took a summer vacation together. We hit Baltimore, Philly, D.C and Boston, but it was in the somnolent burgs such as Agawam, Hershey, Dorney and Bristol that our relationship was forged. This is where the amusement parks were, and we ate, we drank, we laughed, and most of all, we rode the roller coasters. We swerved, we vertically dropped and we screamed.

Years later, she is a sophomore in college, oddly enough at a school across the river from a nearby city we never visited, Manhattan. She glimmers the glow of young womanhood now and is no longer the shy almost shuttered child she once was. The tousled hair is still there but beneath it, and despite being an honor student, a retro 60’s loving rebel resides. Just recently she visited while on semester break and I disclosed to her that I really didn’t like riding roller coasters. She looked up from her magazine, smiled and said, “Neither did I”. I’ll always love roller coasters, just not to ride.

Twenty years later

Christy and Mike lived in Queens, NY, Minneapolis (jobs) and finally in the last few years back to the northeast, in Connecticut. And then, almost three years ago the miracle known as Tyler Lachlan Braun arrived. The only problem was that our paths crisscrossed since we moved to the Land of Dixie. Surely, we are missing a lot. Nothing that phone calls and occasional visits can’t fix. And Christy- don’t worry, I have no intention of putting Tyler on a loop-de-loop, PROMISE,

DAD