I'm at the head of the table. My demeanor reminds me of my dad. The way I sit. Eat. The way I hold my fork. I sit and listen to stories of the day gone by. Stories about school. Stories of sick clowns and doctors visits. I listen but only slightly as my mind roams. I think about her. I think about the years past, and our time together. My thoughts are interrupted by a constant dad, dad, dad, and a tug on my arm. I snap back to reality.
In between bites I watch them. They play with their food and despite my efforts to get him to lean over his plate, he drop more on the floor than he actually eats. Something I'm sure the dog appreciates more than I do. Soon I'm thinking about other things again. The dishes in the sink. The laundry that piles up. The bills, my job and the upcoming weekend. I see her across the table, and I smile. Man I'm lucky.