The Boy Was There When The Sun Rose

The boy was there when the sun rose, in the first place the rays touched when it rose over the tiny town. Before his drunken father left, he would tell his son about the field at the very edge of town, where no one would go to ... and how in that field the sun's cotton candy would appear in the dew every morning. The boy knew it was a fantastic story, like all the others. Though he knew his fathers stories were all lies, they also were irresistible stories, full of whim and amazing happenings, miracles, angels, and unforgettable details. His father had that about him -- a flash, like lightening, laugher, mysteries revealed. The boy loved and hated his father, but above all he missed this unreliable love. A presence like a force of nature, like a storm, then gone. Or at any time, could suddenly reappear dirty, laughing, full of tales. So the boy brought a book with him, and a pencil, and he would write his own stories in the field at dawn, and he promised he would someday publish them, with a dedication to his father. 

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