Something about last night was different. I watched as my son looked at him with his scrunched down eyebrows and pouty lips; fighting back a laugh, smile. It was a simple contest, but we all knew who would lose. As my son smiled, I looked at his opponent; he had his smile on his face but yet I knew he was missing something. I can tell as he played with my son how much he missed his baby girl. He can laugh and hide it but as an old friend, I can see his hurt. I know he is a great dad, and as I watch him play with son I hope he gets a little comfort.
As for me, he was so close but yet still far from me. I hate not being able to say, feel, and do things that we used to. Accepting the fact, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to my old friend.
Good Morning,
Taylor.
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