
would that you'd think of me, when i'm gone and with our good God, and you're sitting on your giant wrap-around porch in some southern clime, with your brood in the yard playing their favorite games, with voices rising sweetly toward sunset.
and when you feel a warm summer breeze on your faces, would that you'd think fondly of fat, squishy, bald dad and turn to give your little ones your wishes -- a baton of blessing -- golden wishes that see the best in everything, and forgive easily, and work hard for good things for family, friends, and those in need as our faith dictates.
if i had but two wishes, i wouldn't have to wish because i already have them in you, my boys.