Visions of My Father: Ode to Killer Joe

His hand gripped my bicycle seat as he ran alongside me that warm summer day. Even though he was young and strong, he was breathing heavily, keeping me upright while we made our way down the street. “Don’t let go me go, Daddy,” I said as I concentrated on steadying myself. “I won’t let go of you, honey; not until you can do it on your own.” My father spoke in short breaths as his feet kept the same pace on the ground as my feet on the bike pedals. I was scared, but with my father by my side I fe...