Father

It comes to pass

A summer’s drive reminds me of when I was a teenager

We would go out, you would drive and talk

while I would sulk in the seat beside you and try not to listen

Complaining that you would talk about nothing

Demanding you would get to the point.

The innocence of father’s and sons,

As impatient as I was, I figured you would always be there.

So it really did not matter if I listened at that moment.

But now.

       I know you are mortal.

And I know

That when you die, a part of me will be gone too.

And right now

I am having a hard time imagining what it will be like, when you are not there.

So one more time,

Can we go for a drive and talk

About nothing?