Like Father, Like Son
Or maybe not….
Most of my life has been spent thinking of my Dad in the past tense. Remembering him shaving at 5:30 am every morning, while I watched. Warm water. Shaving cream. Check the razor. Start. Or seeing the car back out of the driveway, as he headed to the train station and another 12-hour day.
I haven’t touched his face or held his hand in 53 years. Haven’t smelled his Old Spice shaving…