7 years

There was this Red Supra that sped by... it only had 3 hubcaps. And the hood was burnt a little. The windows were down, but it was a lady with gray hair.
There was this denim shirt that went by. It was stretched to the maximum on the shoulders, and wrinkled where it was tucked in, one time long ago. It was some guy at the gas station.
I heard some cowboy boots and turned to look. Worn black snakeskin... massive feet. Somebody else.
A flash of silver hair, the crunch of an apple. The smell of computers. Somebody else.
And every time my heart skips a beat and I think- you! But it's somebody else.
And I guess you aren't coming back. Heaven must be pretty good.

---

My dad died 7 years ago today. He was 6'3 and 280 on a light day. He had curly black and silver hair, and dark brown eyes, and a very tickly mustache. He was a giant of a man, literally and figuratively. He was no saint, in fact, he was a rascal. I wish you all could have met him.