Grateful

Yesterday, my father read me a story he had written about the last day he spent with his own father. As he was describing himself as a ten year old boy secretly jealous that his father was spending more time with his other siblings and unknowing of what was in store for all of them on that day, we both started to cry. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about how lucky I am that I have such a wonderful father, able to so eloquently share his stories with me.