A dream. I saw my father in a lumber shop. He was looking at tools, and taking to someone. I didn't call to him. I was just happy to see him. I watched as he, and the other talked carpentry.
Dad was much younger than my last memories of him.
He looked as he did when I was little. I wanted to tell him I'd grown up. That, and all the history of these decades. 'But something told me he knew all that, and it was okay. So I watched as he got what he came for, and left.
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