Dear Dad,

   Your lessons recede into the past, but somehow remain in the same place; it's as if I am standing on the edge of a lake so vast that I mistake it for the ocean, and as the waves crash and move away my eyes lose focus and the harder I stare the more I feel like the tide must be going out, when really there is no tide at all because my bare feet are standing in a spring-fed lake that has been there for thousands of years.