Pearl Harbor

No pictures today.
Just words.
I'll try and let them go without concern.

Every day as I drive home from work, I feel different than I did the day before. Not drastically, just a little. Not a revelation I suppose.. In spite of their seeming sameness, the days are their own. And there's a momentum underneath it all that started way back and has moved in just one direction ever since. Apparently today is the first day that I've ever felt exactly like this. I'm guessing tomorrow will be the same.

Dad turned 75 on a Thursday a couple of weeks ago. We couldn't make the drive to Boise until Friday. Mom planned a party for the day after that. Some family came, some friends. Genuine people I think, their kids too. They counted all the armadillos. Dad said they could keep them. Grandfathers do things like that. Their mothers said they couldn't. Mothers say things like that. Dad was a good sport about the armadillos, the party and everything else.

Have you ever been at someone's house and seen the kind of family portrait where everyone is dressed the same? Khaki. Denim. Ridiculous. I used to make fun of those.

Work is heavy. Christmas is close. It takes more effort than it did before.