I was having a sweet dance with Anastacia, my youngest daughter. Somewhere in that dance, something broke open. When the song ended I kissed her, then went looking for a dark corner to let the tears flow.

Our father-daughter dance took us both back to those younger days of dancing our bachatas. We were both babies.

I have no degrees.

I do have certifications. One of them took me almost ten years and several attempts to finish. A Degree in Funny. Improv comedy.

Years ago, when I was determined to be the best dancer possible, I would go to a regular dance social on Thursday nights in Dallas.

I wanted to improve so bad.

For years, when laying our sleepy heads, I whisper in her ear:
Thank you for choosing me, again, today.
Then she echoes: thank you for choosing me.

This past weekend my bonus daughter asked me to officiate her wedding.

The third young woman walked off the stage and I did the math.

I looked to my left. I looked to my right.

My biggest discovery? I have always been a writer and a poet. I just forgot over the years.

There’s a personality type I avoid like a ‘We need to talk’ text.
High-energy. Overpromising. Charismatic.
Male. Female. Doesn’t matter.

All my life, I’ve been afraid to share my joy. My corny personality.
But that’s how I’m wired.
That’s how I show up in the real world. So I’ve decided to share those parts anyway. Even more now that I’m old AF and give fewer effs.