My Dad knew everything about everything. I guess had he been born in ancient times he would have been hobnobbing it right there with Socrates or Plato. During night time walks as a child he would point out every plant, rock, or star and share their Latin name and classification. I just nodded to placate him because I knew our walk ended up at Dairy Belle.
On the sunny August day he died from prostrate cancer it happened to be a full moon.
Inevitably, I always think of my Dad when I see the moon. And you know what? Sometimes, I even talk to it. I might scold it, or I might I fill it in with day-to-day news, but mostly I just greet it- like an old friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment