Not Everyone Has a Handlebar Moustache
So yesterday I was shopping, like half the world, for Christmas. As I trudged my way through the stores, I listened to the Christmas music. Festive right? Well actually, I tried to hurry through each store because I was hoping and praying I would get out before one of the stores would play Jingle Bell Rock. It was moms favorite. She listened to it all year long. I just didn't think I could handle hearing it. Not this soon anyway. So I went bustling around.
When I arrived at Publix, I saw an old man getting out of his car................and BAM it was my dad! well, not really my dad as he passed almost 21 years ago. But you know how sometimes things just hit you. So., this man was not fat, big and round and jolly like dad. He wasn't bald (or crew cut, as dad called it, you cant have hair tickling your ears) and he didn't even have that signature handlebar moustache. However, something just told me it was him.
he stepped slowly out of his ancient looking car, and walked around to the trunk. He slowly unbuttoned his sweater, folded it neatly and placed it into the trunk. Maybe it was the sweater. Dad liked wearing those instead of jackets. In any case, it gave me the warm, fuzzy, someone is watching over me feeling.
I imagined him shopping in publix every day and of course paying with a check. Then i'm sure he writes the check out very neatly and takes a very long time. Maybe sometimes his daughter comes with him and rolls her eyes.
Memories are at every turn. We just have to pay attention
When I arrived at Publix, I saw an old man getting out of his car................and BAM it was my dad! well, not really my dad as he passed almost 21 years ago. But you know how sometimes things just hit you. So., this man was not fat, big and round and jolly like dad. He wasn't bald (or crew cut, as dad called it, you cant have hair tickling your ears) and he didn't even have that signature handlebar moustache. However, something just told me it was him.
he stepped slowly out of his ancient looking car, and walked around to the trunk. He slowly unbuttoned his sweater, folded it neatly and placed it into the trunk. Maybe it was the sweater. Dad liked wearing those instead of jackets. In any case, it gave me the warm, fuzzy, someone is watching over me feeling.
I imagined him shopping in publix every day and of course paying with a check. Then i'm sure he writes the check out very neatly and takes a very long time. Maybe sometimes his daughter comes with him and rolls her eyes.
Memories are at every turn. We just have to pay attention
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