....

You are, of course, everywhere here. No one else sees the intersection in the center of town like I do. It was one of your favorite stories. I see the shadow of buildings gone or changed, outlined in memory and meaning. Strawberry frappes after basketball games. The pizza place we always got from but never went into--it just wasn't that sort of place. A parking lot haunted by a storm-blue Chevy Nova, you and I taking slow laps around it. It's how I know when to lay off the gas. Every day is a tribute and every day is a heartache and every day I could tell a story and the sad part is, I should have 19 more years' worth to tell.

I will take what stories I have. I will see those faded moments flicker past. And I will see your smile everywhere I look except here, next to me now, where I most wish it was.


I love you, dad.