Nostalgia

She was a bright and energetic woman in her late twenties . He was a tall and lean man with a stoop. He was very interested in what she was saying. His body was leaning over to hear her words. Her eyes were fixated at something far ahead. And he was content just watching her gaze from the side. She had the demenaor of someone about to save the world. And his was that of a proud father.

I ran into them for mere two minutes when I was waiting for the traffic signal to turn green. They were far away. Yet, I know their story. I know their relationship. I know that interest that only a father shows in his daughter’s ramblings.

The signal turned green and I had to drive on. And so I did. But they came soon. My fluid friends that love to roll and pour and trickle, just in time before the next traffic signal. And I sighed. At the opportunity lost. At the life we could have had. The joys we could have shared. The sorrows we could have divided. And the words that we could have exchanged. I will never be heard in the same way. I miss that stooping lean man who was interested in everthing I had to say. I miss my father.

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