During a waning August Perseid performance, the sky was crisscrossed with air traffic, and misty flickering of distant stars. 79 degrees and the decaying wood of my front porch crumbled into dust between my bitten fingernails. My manic, 45 year old voice chattered on a phone call to a worried, aging Father. I had been in the spells of another wild tangent spawned from a long winded talk about the thought I would be happiest following my childhood dream of being a published writer. A Godshot had come to my mind, that all I want in life is for him to not worry for my life. I knew then, that a Father's love for his daughter was what was going to bring me to life, and a dream began to come true. For my Dad, who always believed in my imagination. You have shown me true courage, imagination is our masterpiece.