Today I saw Mr. Wilson, on Overland Ave, watering his flowers and grass by hand in his front yard. I see him there from time to time. He was a classmate of my Dad’s and I always imagine, as I pass and observe, that that is about how old my Dad would be looking right now were he alive.
He died when I was 27. I didn’t get enough time with him. I miss him. I wanna talk.