Ok, mom… you win.

Oh, brother.
Here I am writing on a typewriter.
But, it’s not just any typewriter.
This one belonged to my dad.

It’s honestly not the typewriter I had hoped my mother would send me. I was secretly hoping for her old IBM Selectric from her days in the military.

Nope. She sent me my dad’s old Brother GX 6750.
After sitting with this old, discolored machine I realized something.

My mom knew I would be able to see past the initial disappointment of not getting the machine I thought I wanted. Instead, she made sure I had the machine I needed.

Sitting here typing and listening to the clicking of the old keys reminds me of my dad. Instantly, I’m catapulted back into time. It’s Saturday. My dad is in his office typing away. I’m not sure of what he’s working on, but I’m lost in the sounds of what many weekends during my childhood sounded like.

“Hey, sugar!”, he’d say as I walked past his office.

Ok, mom… you win.