Earlier this evening I helped Dad carry a couple of loads to the laundry. When we got there, I started loading the clothes into the machines and he started looking for the quarters that were in his hand before we left. He must have looked for them for at least 30 seconds or a minute and I was sure he was going to have to go back the 100 yards to the rig to get them. I asked him to check his pockets again, and sure enough, they were there the whole time! I mean, wow. IN HIS POCKET. I tried to keep my frustration at bay while I firmly thumbed the quarters into the slots.
Facing away and slopping soap into the machines I said: "So, have you heard that the native American elders had a tradition of taking a long last walk into the forest when they knew the end was coming? Interesting, huh?"
And for those of you who have been there when the shoe I was looking for was found on my foot or when I have arrived at the office to finally realize I forgot the pants: Shut up. That's different. This is MY DAD.
They lived with me 5 months and you've already written more than I did the whole time. Well done.
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