I imagine something like that will happen. My dad and I used to sit on the porch and shoot the shit for hours. My last conversation with him was in a dream with us sitting on the porch a few weeks after he died.
That's when all of the impulses to call him or visit him stopped.
I imagine something like that will happen. My dad and I used to sit on the porch and shoot the shit for hours. My last conversation with him was in a dream with us sitting on the porch a few weeks after he died.
That's when all of the impulses to call him or visit him stopped.
Some bitch what great story. Write a book about it.
Some bitch what great story. Write a book about it.
(post is archived)