The hardest part about moving across the country is not having your loving family by your side. Back in Michigan, even in my late 20s I went to my dad, The Warden, with every problem I had. He would fix my car, lend me money, help me cook, give me rides, wait on me when i had a hangover, really whatever I needed. Now I text him for advice, when I run into a pickle in Maryland.
He is always there with good advice and a kind word.
I sent him a message the day I burned my hand at work.
(I am super smart and poured boiling water onto it while making tea)
My dad misses me in his own way.
No comments:
Post a Comment