I literally never let myself think about my father. I talk about him here and there but just words said by rote over and over again. Same soft responses to the inevitable same questions. Never deeper than surface.
But lately, you are on my mind. A lot, way too much. I think about the number 25 and I marvel. The last time I had a father was 25 years ago. The last time I felt so deeply cherished or protected by my poppa was 25 years ago.
That's a quarter of a century.