I'm at the lake, remembering my dad. It's late, I'm on the deck, in my pajamas, with my laptop on my lap, listening to the crickets and the creek.
Everything about this? Is perfect.
My plan had been to write out his story. Today. On his birthday. But I suck, and never got around to doing it.
I will do it, though. One of these days.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Best childhood ever.
2. My dad loved. Loved my mom. His kids. His grandkids. People.
3. This place. This time.