“there’s me and you.”
my dad was referring to two men, one older than the other and both considerably older than we. the younger pushed the elder in a wheelchair to a nearby table.
i looked at them briefly and returned to my plate grinning.
we were at our usual breakfast place. i simultaneously enjoyed and cringed at the idea of having to take care of my father for that long.
but he didn’t live much longer after that comment. i never got to push him in a wheelchair to our usual breakfast place; never got to become an old man with him.
sometimes i catch myself in a mirror interacting with my son and i’ll think of him.
there’s me and you.
Nicolas Gonzales 