My dad says that when I was little, before I could even read, I would “read” to him. Instead of him reading me the bed time story I would be the storyteller, making up the words on the page as I went.
Let me read it to you, Dad.
My dad got engaged over the weekend and he didn’t bother to tell me or my sister. I can honestly say that at first, yeah, I took it personally. I mean, who does that? But then it occurred to me. Dad does that. I don’t do things like that. My sister doesn’t do things like that. Other men don’t do things like that.
Dad does that.
It’s been difficult lately to picture myself getting married. Walking down the aisle, saying the vows, even the premarital counseling. I can’t envision it in my mind. I’ve been wondering lately what it will be like, come June, when I’m up late reading a book in bed and turn over and there on my left, J. My handsome J, snoring away.